


By Your Side

by sleepydemons



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Assault, Cheating, Consensual Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Erik takes care of Marco, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intimacy, Isolation, Kissing, Light drug use, M/M, Self-Hatred, Smut, Violence, alternate universe - not footballers, ambient abuse, blind faith, drunk anger, friendship sex, gaslighting hints, mentions rape, understandable infidelity, upsetting relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepydemons/pseuds/sleepydemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco doesn't realise how dangerous Mats is for him, he needs his best friend Erik more than he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by The Weeknd and Eminem’s _The Hills_.   
>  This turned out differently to what I had imagined when I began writing. Please check the tags and such!   
> (There’s no actual rape scene, though it is heavily implied and there will be verbal and physical abuse.)

Mats was angry when Marco got back.

“Where’ve you been? Slutting it up again like the whore you are?” Marco’s eyes are wide and glassy; he’ll never be used to this side of Mats.

_He’s just drunk. He’s just drunk._ He tells himself.   
Even as Mats wraps his hands around his throat, punches him in the gut and spits his vile words into his face, _he’s just drunk_ has become Marco’s mantra. His comfort. His illusion.

It’s getting worse but he won’t end it. Mats is powerful, he’s said so himself. 

Marco loves him, he knows that when they’re good, they’re amazing. He’s stuck but he doesn’t mind. To be with Mats means everything to him, even if he ends up within an inch of death, he’d still look for affection in his eyes. Mats will apologise to him. And for as long as he’s known that, he has hope. 

He’s addicted, he knows it.   
Though it hurts so bad he wishes it would stop. Hating every bit of how weak he tells himself he is.

 

Mats punches Marco in the face, right above his eye, slapping him when he feels the need to ask again where Marco had been. Marco never got to answer as he felt his clothing being removed and he just closed his eyes as he was turned around and pushed up against the wall once again.


	2. Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik always knows what to do.

Marco knocked on the door quickly. It was cold and dark and he needed distraction.

Erik opened the door to see the blonde stood in the darkness, his hood covering most of his hair, framing his fragile features while blonde wavy strands fell forwards in clumps into his eyes. Marco looked a mess.

The light from Erik’s hallway illuminated Marco’s face, masking the purple bruising with the bleached, artificial lighting. Erik didn’t seem to notice as Marco pushed past him, shoving the door closed behind him and pulling Erik close, his left hand moving up to Erik’s cheek as he pulls Erik on top of him, against the door as they kiss, intense and affectionate.

“Make me forget” Marco whispers as Erik lethargically brings his hands to the small of Marco’s back, pulling their hips closer together as he guides Marco’s spine into an arch away from the door, Erik’s so high, every movement so languid and spaced out and Marco keens for it.

“He’s been drinking again, it’s not him…”  
Erik doesn’t want to hear Marco’s excuses for it. Recalling in his mind the amount of times he’s tried to tell him how fucked up the situation is. He’s too out of it to argue his points again.

 

The contrast between running from the uninvited roughness into this zen pleasure makes Marco go weak; he relishes the tender little touches, the reassurance of honest want and their real connection of understanding takes over him.

Erik nods his head, his breathing heavy and his pupils enlarged, making soft trails around Marco’s waist with delicate fingers as he pushes Marco’s hoodie up to reveal his scarring abdomen.

Erik held his breath, “Marco, you-" “No.” Marco sighs against Erik’s neck, shaking his head in a final motion. _I don’t need a fuss_ , he thinks to himself. “I just need you, I’ll be fine”.

Erik’s moves his hand up slowly, holding Marco’s face up with his thumb resting in front of his ear with the tips of his fingers lifting up Marco’s jaw, making sure he was listening to him as they made eye contact.

“You’re safe with me, Marco” Erik whispers, gritting his teeth afterwards as he spares a moment of hatred towards the coward who does this to him. Flexing his head to the side, trying to shake off the tension before Marco sense it.

Marco’s busying himself with pulling off his hoodie while Erik guides him upstairs.

-

The air is cooler. Marco feels goose bumps forming up his arms as he’s lead towards Erik’s bed. Erik moves closer towards him again and Marco feels soft skin against his bare chest, his breath hitching at the contact, eyes stinging as he remembers that _this_ is what real intimacy feels like.

Breathing light, Erik moves slowly, brushing fingertips over Marco’s shoulders. Moving closer into Marco’s space for a chased kiss, all open mouths and tongues as their lips move sweet and messy and slow against each other.

Erik’s high is rubbing off on Marco, he can smell it in Erik’s short hair, the scent spiralling through his bedsheets as they move, Erik climbing on top of him, pulling him further away from reality with his soothing murmurs.

Marco sits up, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed for a second as he remembers- until Erik’s hands reach to cup his face within his delicate palms.

“I’ll clean you up, stay still” he murmurs above Marco’s temple as he pulls his face in closer to leave a reassuring kiss.

Erik turns after that to get up from the bed, his head turning back as Marco’s hand grabs his arm,  
“thank you” Marco whispers, closing his eyes after he says it, feeling so much raw emotion between them, his eyes opening half lidded and intoxicated by Erik’s shushing and soothing; insisting that he takes proper care of him.

Marco nods his head as Erik motions towards Marco’s joggers, making sure he’s okay to take them off for him. Erik sighs when he sees the fading yellow-green of older bruises up Marco’s thighs, knowing Marco’s need for his reassurances are incredibly justified.

“Always.” He whispers against Marco’s hand, turning it within his own so Marco’s palm faces upwards, leaning in to kiss it gently before getting up to grab a towel and a warm, damp cloth from his bathroom.

Marco’s breathing quickens as he watches Erik walk away, recalling the amount of times he’s relied on Erik to be his saviour from his own chaos.

He couldn’t have survived this without him, he tells himself, his eyes threatening to let the tears roll down his cheeks again as he grasps at his own arms, digging his nails sharply into his own flesh as he fights with the pains in his chest, the awful words reeling around his mind of what Mats screamed at him. The big knot in his throat intensifies as he tries so hard not to cry.

Erik’s there in an instant, by Marco’s side. Kneeling next to him as he pulls Marco into him, soothing him with soft words and making swirls into Marco’s back with his thumbs as he silently checks over his arms to make sure he hasn’t drawn any blood.

They hold each other like this until Marco feels his chest lighten, he sighs heavily against Erik’s shoulder, pushing backwards to look at the worried, angry look on Erik’s face.

“Sorry I- “ Erik lifted his head up sharply, cutting Marco’s unnecessary apology off, his eyes blurred with his own tears for a second before he blinked them away to look into Marco’s eyes, 

“Don’t you dare be sorry for this, okay?”

Erik makes sure that Marco knows how important that statement is. This isn’t his doing, he has absolutely nothing to be apologising for.

“I’ll start with the cuts first” Erik said, letting Marco know what he was doing so he could prepare himself. He leans down to kiss Marco’s forehead again while he mops up the dried blood, patting around the forming scabs as he cleans up the raised, irritated skin. Marco hisses and tenses his abdomen at the pain, Erik making worried glances as he tries to be as delicate as possible with the wounds.

After all the blood is cleared he helps Marco up off the bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower and taking off his shorts and boxers so he can join Marco to help him rid his body of the awful mess Mats left him in.

Erik starts with Marco’s hair, pushing back the wavy strands under the warmth of the water and lathering with shampoo before rinsing and softly soothing Marco with light touches down his neck, watching him melt into his touches really affecting Erik as he moves his hands to try and comfort Marco as best he can.

Working downwards he began lathering up his favourite apple-scented body wash, starting by massaging Marco’s heavy shoulders, working his way down his arms and lingering over his chest where Marco’s breath hitches, his heart racing from all the shock.

Moving downwards, though, Erik’s touch became feather-light towards his abdomen once again as he made sure that the wounds weren’t still bleeding before he took some more gel to work over Marco's hips, being extremely sensitive as he made sure there was no blood between Marco’s legs.

Marco closed his eyes and whimpered at the feeling of the water dulling his pain as Erik continues down his calves, giving them each a quick massage to sooth the bruised skin, affectionately kissing Marco’s right leg just before the crease, before standing up again and holding onto Marco as tightly as he dared. 

Erik dried them both quickly, dabbing softly with the towel to remove the droplets left on their skin. 

As they left the bathroom, Erik handed Marco a pair of clean boxers, both of them changing before getting into Erik’s bed.

Marco turns into Erik with shaky hands, making sure Erik is totally okay with them cuddling so closely. Of course, Erik was never going to deny his best friend the comfort he needs, pulling Marco closer so he could lean his head on Erik’s chest. His hand moved up to Erik’s heart, Marco finding it soothing to feel Erik’s calm pulse rate next to him. Reminding him fully that he is surrounded by serenity and familiarity and safety.

He does a little technique that Erik taught him a while ago where he matches his breathing to Erik’s so that if he starts to panic he has a guide to know when his breathing is back under control. It makes Erik smile as he realises and the pains in his chest mellow as he thinks about how fucking glad he is that Marco turned up there, to him. So he knows he’s right here for him through the night, whatever he needs, rather than walking the streets, or worse, staying in that awful place with Mats.

They both fall into a comforting sleep, Marco still using Erik’s chest as his pillow while Erik holds his right arm around Marco’s waist with his left flung upwards to frame around his own head on top of his puffy, soft pillow.


	3. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's resolved, but then Mats drags it all back up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one and the next one are /a lot/, I've never written anything to this extent so I hope it's easy to follow and such. Feedback and kudos are massively appreciated!

-two days later-

Marco and Mats are laying together on their big, snug bed. Marco’s below him resting in Mats’ lap, Mats’ fingers running lazily through Marco’s soft hair and Marco sighs into the delicate touch, closing his eyes and feeling so content. Like his inner cat has been brought out. 

He’s so relaxed he feels like he could purr as he flexes his body back appreciating Mats’ soothing touches, nuzzling his cheek into Mats’ thigh when he began rubbing his thumb over the back of Marco’s wrist before their fingers intertwined.

The room was darkening as the sunlight dimmed, the curtains left open as the evening draws in. Their room highlighted by candles that Marco lit for them, wanting to create an endearing little atmosphere for them to relax in together. He had a mixture of Lavender and Burnt Oak scents burning, loving how well the combination works together. Their flames flickering as if they’re dancing in the cool air around them, making shadow patterns around the walls of their bedroom.

“You look so beautiful in this light, babe” Mats complimented him. 

Marco felt his face beam a little at the compliment, laughing as he turned his body so his back was against Mats’ thighs, catching Mats’ stare with his big, soft eyes all affectionate and Marco’s heart could’ve stopped right there, he felt so utterly blissful. 

Mats’ body felt ridged almost as Marco got comfy again now he’s laying on his back, becoming more and more aware of Mats’ austere manner-  
“You okay, Mats?” Marco asked, peering at him with sheer concern, looking over his features for any kind of paleness that could indicate him being ill. 

Mats shifted at that, sensing Marco’s genuine concern then feeling nothing but passive-aggression towards him. He smiled faintly, flicking his eyes upwards to the ceiling indicating to Marco that he was just thinking… Before he uttered the words that he knew would make Marco’s heart rate blow up and his chest tighten-

“You still didn’t tell me why you were late back the other day, babe” Mats murmured and then kissed the back of Marco’s wrist, trying to coax it out of him. He knew all along where he had been really, of course he fucking did, and he knows Marco won’t lie to him.

_If he knows what’s good for him._

 

Marco’s eye contact breaks as he recalls the horrid events that unfolded due to his stupid lateness. He tried so hard to get back on time, the tubes were running late after the Dortmund game and he had no control over the situation.

Mats hates him going to the games. _” You don’t understand how much I worry!”_ Is what he had yelled at him the last time he went alone. No matter how Marco tried to tell him he’s never been physically hurt there once; how Dortmund is where he belongs, supporting his team within the glorious wall of yellow decorating the stands. 

He lives for those moments and Mats wants to take them away from him like he’s done with so many other things- he has to hide his friendships, especially Erik, he changed his style of clothing, he even moved out of the city for him which was painful enough without the pressure of everything else. He wouldn’t leave his team, that’s just not an option.

“I went to Dortmund.” Marco mumbled. “The tubes where slow but I was only ten minutes late at most, Mats”.

Marco flinched terribly as he felt Mats drop his arm down on top of Marco’s hips, feeling the pain in his abdomen where his scars are still healing, but turning to look at him again when he realised Mats was still calm. “I was worried for you, that’s all” Mats said, his voice cold but his arm heavy and comforting, making Marco’s heart sink with guilt.

_Stupid Marco, messing everything up once again. Why can’t I just fucking learn?_

Mats smirked at Marco’s distraught face when Marco turned away from him in panic. Mats feeling his power over the blonde getting stronger and stronger.

Marco’s staring at the bed sheets in front of him as he bullies himself in his thoughts. His expression dejected and his chest hollow; he apologises again, looking back up at Mats for forgiveness.

“it’s okay babe, I know the city means a lot to you, I shouldn’t have asked you not to visit…”

Marco feels sick. _Oh god, he’s being so nice and he’s misunderstood me. Oh god he’s going to hate me..._

“No, I meant... Mats, I went to the game.”

Mats’ fake reassuring features turned to stone at that-  
“It was totally fine, nothing happened... We won, it was great!” 

Marco babbled, he was panicking, knowing it would’ve been easier if he’d just let Mats think he went back to visit his favourite city.

Marco shuts his mouth, shuts his eyes too as he waits for whatever Mats deems appropriate for what Marco has done.

_This night doesn’t feel very relaxing anymore._


	4. Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's out of hand and Marco thinks it's his fault.

Erik hasn’t heard from Marco since the other night, he’s getting more than concerned.

He knows Mats keeps Marco away from literally everyone important to him, fucking arsehole, but Marco usually messages him to let him know what’s going on. This isn’t good. Erik can feel it.

He gets into his car as he calls Marco, deciding that no matter where he is, he’s taking him out. He needs to get back to his life, he’s been stuck with that lunatic whose ruined everything, fucking beating his best friend? Not anymore. Erik’s ending this. He’s ending Mats and he’s getting Marco his humanity back.

_As soon as he picks up his fucking phone._

-

Marco’s sobbing as he’s finally able to get to his phone. It’s rung out about seven times that he’s heard and he’s just so glad when he hears Erik through the receiver.

When Marco looks at his screen he sees that It’s just gone five in the morning. He’s been shivering, shaking, panicking.  
He’d been lying there in agony in their so-called ‘boudoir’, waiting for him to drift off.  
Making sure that Mats was actually asleep was Marco’s priority, so the more times he didn’t stir as Marco’s phone buzzed on the floor, the more chance he knew he had of actually being able to get out.

He grabbed his phone as he slid off the edge of the bed, the mattress not even moving an inch it’s so dense, sighing, holding his breath in light he grabbed a jacket he saw lying near the door and slowly moved to pull the door open. 

Once he was on the other side, in the hallway of their upstairs he took the steps two at a time, grabbing onto the rail and dragging himself as quick as he could, supporting his weight so he wouldn’t make a sound. He felt around in his joggers as he moved, nodding to himself when he felt the sharp ridges of his keys, his phone buzzing again but he still couldn’t answer. Not yet.

Opening to front door was both a panic in itself and a huge relief when he saw it was still pretty dark outside, grabbing the first pair of shoes he could from the inside porch he bolted from the building. Shoving his shoes on, his adrenalin kicked in as he recalled the brutal evening he endured. He sprinted down the road, zipping up his hoodie as he sobbed. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his hand once again so he slowed down to finally answer it, breathing heavy as he closed his eyes at the renewing pain in his throat as it burned, listening to Erik’s panicked voice.

“Erik, I’m outside, I’ve left. I can’t breathe…”

“Marco let me help you, please, it’s killing me to know you’re like this.”

“Can you pick me up? I just need some space for him to calm down, I messed up again, it’s my fault.”

“God, Marco, _please!_ Let me in. I can see what he’s doing to you and I want to murder him for it. You must know this isn’t okay!”

“Erik, I don’t want to argue with you as well. I don’t have the energy; can we meet or not?”

“I’m in my car, I’ve been driving around while I rang so I can pick you up, yeah”

“That’s good of you, thanks. I’m a few streets up from ours, I ran a little so I’m walking up the main road”

“I’ll be a couple of minutes, don’t worry”

Marco hung up and sighed again, trudging up the pathway. The roads are completely empty; dark, cold and eerie as the street lamps flicker their fake yellow glow above him, tainting the roads and reflecting the colours in the puddles from the rain that must’ve fallen earlier in the evening.

Erik drove up towards the main road Marco had mentioned, looking out for him with his headlights and the road lamps, he saw him about half way down, shivering with his hands in his jacket pockets, his hair lifting up with the wind, flying around like pale, abandoned feathers.

He drove further head and stopped about couple of foot in front of him so that Marco had time to check the number plate on his car, so he knew it was definitely Erik.

Marco’s heart beat intensified as he saw the car, he liked that Erik stopped further ahead, reassuring him that everything’s okay before he’s even got anywhere near the car seat.

When he opens the door Erik smiles, it’s pained because he’s so upset- but he’s just relieved Marco’s breathing.

-

Mats had strangled Marco, again. He’d dragged him to their ensuite and shoved him against the wall, yelling and yelling and yelling. 

Marco choked as his hold got tighter. Mats shoved him further into the wall, Marcos elbows scraping against the cement in between the tiled wall as he struggled- until Mats let him drop to the floor in a heap again.  
A gasping, sobbing heap. Then he pulled Marco up by his hair, dragging him up towards the toilet, kneeling him in front of it.

Marco could feel himself struggling, screaming and pleading, but his ears were ringing so loud, the disbelief at the situation so poignant that his senses couldn’t fathom how to cope.

“Maybe this will teach you to do as you’re told you fucking repulsive liar”

Then he grasped his hair tighter, pulling at Marco’s mouth and sticking his fingers down his throat when his mouth was opened wide enough.  
Marco gagged, his shoulders rising upwards and his eyes scrunching together as he realised what was happening,  
He retched at the dry, abhorrent taste of Mats’ fingers, heaving as he began to vomit. 

_'This is vile; this is fucking disgusting. This is what I deserve.'_

God. Marco let himself go, detaching himself from the situation. Something he’s had a lot of situations to practice at. He could feel the burn, the scratches in his throat as Mats put pressure on his sore flesh, he could feel the tensing of his gut, his stomach doing flips at the sudden attack of brutality.  


His wounds prickled on his abdomen, he could feel the scabs stretching as he jolted forwards awfully again as more liquid escaped from his mouth. 

After that everything slowed. He didn’t know if Mats was still forcing him or if he’d just gone so far within his own mind that he’d got lost there.

He didn’t really care to know at this point. He felt dizzy and dehydrated and completely debauched. Manhandled like a criminal and treated far, far worse. 

-

Erik helped Marco out of the car. He’d fallen asleep while Erik was driving and he was far too groggy to hold a serious conversation as Erik guided him into his house. 

They settled downstairs on Erik’s comfy sofa, he draped a massive quilt over Marco before easing himself down next to the already sleeping blonde.

He sighed, holding his head in his hands. _How is this happening?_


	5. Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Marco x1000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite chapter so far, I'm so inlove with their friendship!!!

Marco woke in a panic. Sweating and shaking and gasping, _fucking hell my mouth’s so dry!_

He turned to see Erik curled up in the chair opposite him, dazed, he looks like he’s been crying but as soon as he realises Marco’s awake he just beams at him.

“You need anything?”

Marco’s panic faded, his body relaxing at his friend’s kindness,

“My mouth’s dry, I’ll just get some water”

He tries sitting up, wincing immediately at his arm giving way underneath him.

“You look dehydrated. I’ll get you a glass and some toast, yeah?”

 

When Erik came back with the tray of water and toast for the two of them Marco had managed to sit up. He’s got dark rings around his eyes and a graze on his bruising chin, but Erik doesn’t see how bad his neck is until Marco moves away his hand to help him with the tray.

His eyes go wide and he can’t help his tears as he looks with a disheartened expression.

Marco blushes in shame when he realises but he grabs Erik’s hands, squeezing them tight, willing him to believe that he’s fine. 

_He is alive after all._

“You need to get out, Marco, he’s not good to you!”

Marco’s eyes shut at his words. _I know; I know…_ he screams inside his head _I can’t believe he never even apologised…_

“Apologised?”

 _Oh._ He sighs, realising he must have said that last bit out loud.

“Marco you deserve way more than a meaningless apology from a fucking arsehole like him. Do you hear me?”

Marco flinches at his words. Erik seeing it and instantly regretting his yelling. This won’t solve anything, he knows that.

Moving his thumbs in soothing circles over Marco’s hands, he murmurs  
“You deserve to feel safe, you deserve to be happy. You do not deserve what he’s done to you.”

Marco broke down at that. Knowing now after all the things he’s done for Mats, it wasn’t enough. 

_'Mats deserves better.'_

-

The two of them laze together on Erik’s sofa for the rest of the afternoon, Erik doing everything he can for Marco to help him feel better and more at ease, perking him up with re-runs of their favourite shows and laughing at all the outdated jokes until Marco deems himself fit enough to shower, pulling Erik along with him.

They kiss under the water, holding each other, washing each other’s hair and sighing as they pat each other dry with soft, fluffy towels and relaxed smiles.

Marco’s got more colour in his cheeks now, looking much brighter than he had when he first woke up.

After the blonde turned around to face Erik with more than just appreciation written all over his face, Marco grabs his hand making it clear that this is what he wants. What he needs.

“Need you, Erik, please” Erik nodded, knowing Marco wants to have the last of those awful feelings erased with Erik’s movements, Erik’s emotions washing over him, taking him fully away from any lingering feelings of destruction and panic from last nights’ events.

Erik takes over once they’re at the doorway of his bedroom, pulling Marco towards him and lifting him onto the bed, placing him delicately on top of the sheets so that his still healing cuts won’t be irritated.

Marco smiled at that, the attention and awareness never failing to make his tummy flutter and his head spin.

Erik’s apprehension was winding down now, he could feel the toll all of this was having on him as well, but he felt better knowing that both of them were in a clearer headspace than they were when Marco first answered his call.

This moment feeling so honest and electric, more, somehow, than any of their other times. 

He wanted to keep the languid pace they’d set earlier, knowing it would be easier on Marcos body, so he began with a soft, lingering kiss as he climbed above him. He settled over him with his legs either side of Marco’s hips, turning towards the drawer next to his bed and taking out the lube, moving his face into Marco’s hair as he whispers “How do you want me?”

Marco smiled at that, at the feeling of heat kicking in as Erik’s words got him feeling hotter and hotter.

“Want you on top. Now”

Erik’s eyes close as he breathes heavy at Marco’s words, nodding his head as he sits up, slicking Marco’s fingers with the lube and pushing his arse out more as he curves his spine and licks his lips as he takes his time acquainting his tongue with Marco’s nipples.

As Erik licks softly against the pink flesh, he feels Marco’s first finger slicking him up, slow and teasing as he moves his finger further in through the tight ring. Erik pulls in a hitched breath at Marco's second finger which turns into an absolutely keening moan when Marco crooks them just right within his slick heat.

“Marco” Erik babbles as Marco adds a third finger, watching Erik writhe for him, giving him full control of his body, Marco relishes how quickly he’s able to see him in such delicate, fucking gorgeous positions.

Marco sighs as Erik moves from Marco’s nipples back up to Marco’s lips, needing somewhere to take out all the pleasure he’s feeling as he digs his nails into the bedsheets. 

Finally resting at Marco’s collar bones, he nuzzles the blushing skin softly before he grazes it roughly between his teeth, catching Marco off guard as he shudders and moans, pushing particularly harsh pressure with his three fingers as he hits Erik’s spot dead on while he rolls his hips on Marco’s fingers. 

His head whipping upwards with a look of pure, intense pleasure written all over his face as he groans.

Marcos beyond ready at this point, grabbing the lube with his left hand and slicking up his hard length before angling Erik’s arse, removing his fingers and pulling Erik down, hard on top of him.

“God… Erik…” Marco whines, the emotion high between the both makes the air feel thick around them, the atmosphere intensifying as they breath heavily against each other. Erik pushing his hands up to balance himself on Marco's shoulders, curving his arch back even further to get more of Marco’s thickness inside of him before he starts to move.

Marco knows he’s basically locked into place now, not able to move his hips much without irritating his injuries. Erik has full control of helping Marco let go, and he fully intends on doing so.

He’s slow at first, incredibly teasing, wanting Marco to feel him, to let him just be in their moment.

Erik’s aching dick between them soon becomes Marco’s way of getting back at Erik for teasing so much.

Marco strokes him slowly, causing an unexpected whine from Erik’s mouth, encouraging him to start moving his hips to the slow rhythm Marco set with his delicious hand movements.

They writhe against each other, Erik twisting his hips as he lifts and drops above Marco, their slow movements taking a toll on each other, so desperate but so drawn out, Marco knew he couldn’t last much more. His whole body tingling with ecstasy, like he’s floating in the fucking clouds he feels so ethereal, and Erik’s heart is hammering in his chest as he feels like lightning, seeing stars every time he pushes himself down on Marco’s dick, angled perfectly so he could hit his prostate right,  
Every. Fucking. Time.

“Marco… fuuuck.” 

Erik could feel himself nearing the edge; unable to control his mouth as he creates noises Marco could only groan at, they’re so fucking hypnotic.

Marco’s watching him come undone above him through hazy eyes as he chokes back more moans until Erik starts moving more erratic, his rhythm unwinding and Marco gets to watch him completely let go.

His head drops backwards, exposing his beautiful, blotched, rosy neck blushing more and more from their heat as he ground himself against Marco, clenching and rutting around him, making Marco falter at the pulsing feeling. Seeing him turning into a fucking mess becoming too much for him way too quickly, coming inside Erik, hot and smooth as their sweat covered bodies continue to writhe, helping each other through the waves of pleasure and heat, Erik’s come painting all over Marco’s hand as he continues to stroke him through his orgasm.

Their breathing still ragged as their bodies finally stilled, Erik slowly moving off of Marco to lie beside him, leaning against each other as their breathing synchronises into slow, calming breaths.

Marco wipes his come stained hand on his chest, squirming at the feeling of rough skin moving over his sensitive nipples, and seeing Erik licking his lips as he watches him just utterly finishes him.

He brings a hand up to Erik’s chin, lifting his forehead up so he could kiss the top of his head gently, Erik smiled closing his eyes and when he reopened them Marco kisses him on the cheek, turning to put an arm around Erik’s chest and then laying back against the pillows where he could hide his face in Erik’s neck.


	6. Unconventional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's panicking, baking and smoking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluffiest of all the chapters. I wanted to show the good days Marco has with Erik before the contrast of the rest of the story.

When Erik wakes up the next morning he sees that Marco’s already dressed.  
Pulling himself up he leans back against his pillows looking up at him, watching as he paces up and down the room looking worryingly thoughtful. He’s distracted, Erik realises when he notices he’s got his eyes trained on only one thing as he moves; he’s staring straight at his phone.  


“What’s he said?” Erik asks, monotone and disappointed.  
Marco hadn’t realised Erik had woken up, this becoming obvious in the way he flinches as he takes yet another step, leaning on his right foot a little longer as it connects to the ground to help him keep balance as he realises he’s not in his own head space anymore, before he carries on moving as if it never bothered him.  


Sighing, Marco reads the message,  
“Ran away again. Is the truth too much for you?” Simple, but cutting from Mats.  
Erik rolls his eyes immediately, both at the melodramatic way he imagines Mats’ demeanor as he typed that message out, as well as the sheer pathetic, self-absorbed way he’s trying to guilt Marco even from behind a phone screen.  
“I don’t know what to say back…”  


“Put him out. You can live your life without him picking at you all the time, you don't owe him anything.”  
Marco stopped his pacing to look at Erik, tears spilling down his cheeks as he speaks

“Why am I like this, Erik? Why do I need him?”

Erik gets out of bed at Marco's sobbing, walking over to him to try and calm him, holding him tight as he sobs. He brings his arms around him, supporting the both of them immediately as he realises Marco’s body's going weak, both of them falling slowly to the floor, Erik taking control and guiding them as Marco’s legs give out underneath him.

They hold each other on the floor, Erik turning to sit behind Marco instead so he can support his trembling body properly.

“You don’t need him. Marco, you’re so strong, you must know how resilient you are?”

“I’m not strong. Look at me! Erik. I’m not good enough.”

Erik looks over Marco’s shoulder, taking in the scene, his best friend trembling in his arms in front of him. He’s still so fragile from everything, he really shouldn’t be stressing out like this.

“I promise you, it’s him that’s not good enough for you. And that’s an absolute understatement.”

He grits his teeth as he takes in the sight of Marco's still healing scars, the redness and the bumpy scabs sticking out around the paling pink scar tissue that's begun to form where Marco's scratched away at the itchy crystallised tissue.

Marco’s shoulders lower at Erik’s soft words, willing himself to calm down so he won't mither his friend even more with all this shit.

Erik knows Marco won’t accept what he’s just said as any kind of truth, feeling so much guilt within himself that Marco’s so blinded by everything that he's sitting in front of him in such a state.

“You’re gonna make yourself ill, Marco” he whispers, panicking at the words Marco’s coming out with, wanting to cry himself at how harsh he’s witnessing Marco being on himself.

Marco thinks back to last night, how strong he felt with him, their connection strengthening way beyond words is what pulls himself out from being so tense and agitated within his destructive thinking. He doesn’t believe him, but he’s grateful for the kindness and patience Erik’s giving him.

Breathing out shakily, Erik holds out both of his hands which Marco grabs blindly, interlocking their fingers and squeezing in muddled affection and frustration as he continues to sob.  
Erik trails soothing kisses along Marco’s right shoulder, trying to show him how safe he is here with him,  
“Try and follow my breathing, okay?”

Marco nods, leaning further back into Erik’s strong chest behind him, his eyes squeezing shut and his bottom lip looking irritated, like he’s been worrying at it without even realising.  
He lets out a slow breath, pulling Erik’s right hand with his own as he drags them up together to dry his face from all the tears,  
“Can we just stay in? We haven’t had a lazy day in ages…”

“Absolutely. I miss our lazy days too” Erik’s relieved at Marco’s suggestion, that he’s trying to be positive and not let this darkness consume him. Erik isn’t totally convinced it’s going to be a complete solution, but Marco deserves to have today for himself, he’ll be here for him whatever he needs.  
If today he wants to ignore the whole world, he’ll gladly help him have as much cosiness as he wants. But he’s already preparing for things to get even tougher, when Marco thinks he can handle Mats’ charm and anger all over again, he’ll be there for him.

No matter what.

 

They sit there for a while, appreciating their silence, calming each other with subtle movements. Marco bringing Erik’s arms around him with their fingers still locking together, feeling his chest push tighter against his back as he leans to the left to lay his head on his arm.

Erik smiles at Marco’s soft movements, neither of them needing to speak any more words to convey their feelings, just appreciating each other’s comfort and awareness.

He moves his head down slightly so he can leave a little kiss on Marco’s right temple, watching as his eyes closed and seeing the little smile on his face just reassuring him that his care for Marco is being well received, it’s not too much or too invasive.

Loosening his hold on Erik’s arms, Marco turns his head to look over his own shoulder so that Erik can see the left side of his face. Though he’s looking down still, at their tightly held palms that are now sitting against his thighs, he has a much brighter, calmer expression on his face which Erik feels so much relief for.

Marco gains strength from Erik’s unwavering belief in him, the feelings of dread subsiding as he really takes in Erik’s presence. Coming back to himself, detaching from that awful state he hates to be in, Erik gives him the chance to pull himself together, to be _him_ again... He's more than grateful to him, and he knows that Erik deserves reassurances too. Not in the same way as Erik realises him, but, reassurances of appreciation and understanding of loyalty, and for all the little things besides.

“I’ll make us breakfast, okay?” Marco insists, thinking more and more about actions he usually pays no mind to after a 'thanks' or a 'that looks amazing' leave his mouth whenever Erik cooks for the two of them. Keeping his head angled downwards but flicking his eyes upwards to look at Erik through his lashes, genuinely smiling to show him that he’s feeling much better for being sat there in his arms, planning the best breakfast Erik’s ever had.

Erik nods his head, keeping eye contact and smiling back at him, his chest fluttering as he sees Marco's determined expression through his dark rimmed eyes- Then he helps him slowly move upwards off his knees, pushing him up gently and making sure he isn’t dizzy as he stands, before he turns his own body to push himself up off the floor.

Erik starts rubbing his slightly dead leg back to life while Marco walks over to Erik’s chest of drawers, pulling out some black joggers and a grey V-neck for him to shove on, Erik laughing at him as he sees the clothing flying at his face,

“I’ll be in the kitchen when your decent” Marco jokes, still smiling as he ambles loosely down the stairs.

 

-

 

It’s mid-afternoon and Marco’s got Erik baking with him again.

 

He’d made them breakfast pancakes with loads of syrup and fruit and chocolate, making Erik laugh at how much food he’d put together for the two of them.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” Erik had joked, wiping off some syrup that had been dripping down Marco’s chin, laughing even more at Marco’s blushing.  
“I worked hard at this, okay. You’re going to eat the whole thing and be proud of it like it was a prize!”  
Marco had then proceeded to mock pout after his dramatic demand, but his features lit up again quite easily as he crossed his arms and grinned, watching as Erik took both of their plates over to the counter.

He’d bowed to Marco as he walked backwards in comedic admiration of Marco’s cooking skills and then pulled out his seat for him after laying out their overflowing plates, he then bowed again, towards the chair,  
“Your throne awaits, Your Highness” he’d grinned right back at Marco as he watched him rolling his eyes, still blushing and laughing.

Erik grinned at the sight. Really seeing him so carefree, genuinely laughing at such stupid little things like this just makes everything feel so natural- like friendships are supposed to be.

And now they’re back standing up at the counter, flour in their hair and Erik mixing away at the chocolate icing, with remnants of the powder all over his chin from trying to eat some of it without Marco seeing; which completely backfired on him and they nearly ended up with the whole bag all over both of them…

“Who thought you could be so dramatic at baking?”  
Marco mocked him, silent laughing as Erik rose his face up to him slowly with a deadpan stare,  
“Me? Really?” he said, “have you seen what you’ve done to my kitchen!”  
They were both full on laughing when he finished his yelling, leaning into each other’s shoulders as they held onto the counter for support.

Gathering his breath together, Marco felt the need to thank Erik for letting him trash his entire kitchen,  
“This is literally the most I’ve laughed in so long. We’ve made a shitty cake with fucked up icing that’s taken the whole day to make and I’ve enjoyed myself so much, I can’t even breathe”  
Erik just nodded at him with a weird, understanding face, his eyebrows all scrunched and his mouth wide open in a belly-laughing smile as he nods in agreement to Marco’s description of their dodgy creation.  
“Oi. Best thing I’ve ever baked, this!” Erik agrees, wiping some of the flour out of Marco’s hair, making him laugh again when he feels it falling into his face.

 

-

 

They retire to the couch in the front room after the cake fiasco.

It's late and Marco is pretty exhausted if he's truly honest with himself. Everything that's happened in the last few months playing over in his mind, like a flickering tape real that could set fire from exhausted repetition at any given moment.

Sighing he pulls Erik closer to him for comfort, wishing that he would stop flying from one emotion to the next, each time more jarring and contrasting than the last.

Erik feels his shirt being tugged and he knows Marco's thoughts have taken hold of him again.  
"Wanna smoke?"

 

He wouldn't normally offer, but he can tell Marco really needs to chill.

Marco thinks about it for all of a second, concluding very quickly that this would solve everything, for the rest of the night at least.  
"Yeah, go on then."

The room takes on a different hue after the first two drags. More intense and grainy as he begins to feel less present. By the end of the joint everything's wavy and his limbs are drowsy and it's peaceful.

He looks up to see Erik putting two more together, passing one over when their eyes connect, hazy and relaxed as they sit back to just smile and breathe. Taking in the muffled silence, iridescent blotches appear in Marco's vision, like an oil spill burning through Erik’s ceiling, bright fuchsia and grey teal mixing together with the fiery red cherry tip and the pale, off-white of the painted walls.

It was soothing, distracting, endearing.

Just what Marco needed. It was complete nothingness. Colours and breathing without intrusive thoughts or panic or pain.

Erik knew when Marco finished his second joint that they wouldn't be moving off the couch tonight. Smiling down at him as he watches Marco slide sideways down the couch, his shirt slipping easily against the fabric until his head lay over the armrest. 

Erik picked up his own heavy hand and brushed his fingertips through the blonde's fluffy hair, getting lost in how vibrant and beautiful and utterly soft it all is before he realises he was just about to drape their comfy blanket over the two of them before those luxurious locks just completely entranced him.

He turns away quickly as he remembers the plan, grabbing at said blanket from the edge of the pouf in the corner of the room just to his left, shaking it out in front of him, too lazy and disjointed to try and figure it out rationally; then pulls it up right to his neck, squeezing the textured fabric between his fingers and his palms, closing his eyes momentarily to just _feel_ the abstract forms in his grasp before shuffling it up towards Marco, sharing the warmth it's granted to him.

He covers Marco's shoulders, watching his just lay there in a blissful looking ball next to him, spaced but still present. No harsh lines at his brows or across his forehead, just peaceful features and a slightly slack mouth. His eyes, Erik could see, still trailing off towards something far off in the distance, surely further past the shadow in the opposite corner of the room, but Erik couldn't see that far, so he left it for Marco to explore for himself.


	7. Misguided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long will Marco's happiness last?

Marco hasn’t seen Mats in a week.

Until he does.

 

They’re in Dortmund, because Erik never wants Marco to feel isolated from his home, because Marco loves it here, because the sun is actually shining and the place is literally glowing it’s so beautiful.  
_Because why the hell not?_

They’re just strolling, talking, laughing. Then, as Marco turns his face from the sun making him squint, with the heat rising as they walk through the sunbeams after using the trees as shade, their skin adapting the sudden change in temperature-  
He stops abruptly, cutting Erik off mid-sentence; seeing those familiar piercing eyes. His mouth goes dry and the hitch in his throat gets worse as he focuses on those soft, dark curls floating unctuously, framing his cheekbones, moving lightly in the breeze. 

Marco holds his breath, unable to blink or look away or even _move._

In all of the places it had to be here. Today. Right in the middle of his favourite place. 

_Of course it did._

 

Mats is alone, his expression hostile and a little unhinged as he saunters through the city, halting immediately as he catches Marco’s gaze, his vibrant blonde hair the first thing that draws him to really take notice.

Smirking at the realisation, he knows he’s been gifted his chance, he’s going to take it and he’s going to win. _I always win_ is all he thinks to himself as he crosses the walkway towards his precious Marco.

 

Marco notices his sudden movements, _'he’s coming over to us. Shit.'_

He’s freaking out in his head all of a sudden, feeling sick and grabbing hold of Erik’s arm suddenly, trying to make him aware quickly so he can process the situation _fast_. 

Mats continues to stalk towards them, his shoulders strong and his walk bold, like he owns the fucking world. _Here we go._

 

Erik realises why Marco’s gone into such a state when he sees that wanker drifting towards them, bold as fucking brass. He could have laughed, he really could. The way Mats eyes him like he’s dirt on his disgustingly muddy, slack-laced boots as he nears the two of them. Erik really considered just lamping him then and there. 

If Marco’s grip on his arm hadn’t felt quite so desperate, he thinks he probably would’ve.

“Thought I’d find you here. Can I buy you two some coffee?”  
Mats offers bluntly with such clear presence right from the first word, smiling so wide he could actually be mistaken for being genuine in his proposition, it’s disgusting. 

“That’s nice of you, but we have plans.” Erik assertively shuts him down, Mats is having none of it, though;  
“I’m sure you don’t need this guy answering for you, do you, love?” He mocks Erik with a smirk and a head nod in his direction as he makes sure he keeps eye contact with the blonde the whole time.

Marco looks down at the floor for any kind of distraction, trying his best to avoid Mats’ beautifully spellbinding eyes, feeling them burning into his skin, caressing him as much as they’re stinging.

 _'Too late…'_ he hears Mats’ snarky voice in a sing-song tone pushing him in his thoughts. He’s already made up his mind and he knows it. He knew it from the moment he first caught sight of him. And that’s Marco’s weakness in a nutshell. He can’t give Mats up.  
_He doesn’t even want to._

Marco pauses. Lifting his head slowly, keeping his eyelids closed as he speaks in a dulled tone of finality,

“Erik, I think me and Mats should talk, yeah?” opening his eyes shakily to see Erik going pale, frowning at the thought of Marco even entertaining the thought of ever speaking to him again. The look Marco gives him is full of reassurance and pleading; Erik knows he needs to let him have this moment. If Erik doesn’t go with Marco’s decision in front of Mats, he could lose him forever, he knows that from the uneasiness of Marco’s posture and the way he felt him leaving hold of his arm so subtly. 

He’s making his points clear to Erik in actions rather than words and Erik knows the best thing he can do to show the loyalty and support he still has for Marco, is to let him do what he feels he needs to do for himself. Erik nods at Marco, strong and simple, showing he understands.

Looking up at Mats again, the pull Marco feels towards him just won’t subside. _I can fix this. Erik won’t have to worry if I can just keep Mats happy._

“I’ll call you later, okay?” he promises, nodding to Erik who just sighs inwardly and repeats another nod to him, willing him to feel the strength he’s trying to project towards him.

_'It’s not my place to tell him what to do. If I try and split them up like this, then I’m no better than him…'_

 

Erik still regrets it the moment he lets Marco turn away from him. He sees the way Marco so readily fits into Mats’ menacing embrace. The view of the two of them incredibly distorted. If he hadn’t seen what Mats’ is capable of he might actually believe they were happy.

_'How fucking sickening.'_

-

Mats pulls Marco into him as they walk aimlessly, wrapping his right arm over Marco’s shoulder and smirking as he feels Marco’s trembling fingertips as they hesitantly wrap around his waist in return, sees the relief cross his face as he begins to feel secure holding onto him again and he feels his emotional position heightening. 

“I took the day off when you still weren’t home. Came here first thinking if you’d be anywhere, it’d probably be Dortmund.” He said in a carefree tone, the smile on his face coming through in his voice like he was almost laughing.

“Miss all your candles and your shirts draping over the towel rail, and when you leave your side drawer open showing just how much hair product you actually own” he says that last part properly amused, lifting his hand upwards from Marco’s shoulder to tousle the blonde locks softly. Marco looks up at Mats, content just by listening to Mats’ confessions, feeling his heart tugging at his chest; becoming overwhelmed, feeling important and carefree all at once, smiling back at him as they continue walking.

 _This could work._ Marco thinks to himself, feeling high almost at the way Mats is being so honest and sweet, bringing them back closer together than he felt they’d been in months. _I just need to not fuck it up_.  
\- The rest of their day consisted of ice creams and Marco's hushed concerns by Mats' confident brush-offs in his complimentary, faultless style. 

Marco’s head spinning as he recalls everything while they’re on the late train home. Humming to himself with a smile etched across his features as they sit opposite each other. Mats making eyes at him, playful and sultry; Marco reciprocating, licking his lips, smirking as he moves to sit further back in his seat, looking even more relaxed as their wordless connection continues.

Marco’s beaming with the happiness he’s projected to Erik over text about how it’s all sorted, 

‘All under control, no need to worry  
See you soon’ 

Even deciding to turn his phone off so that he can make sure he can just focus on Mats. Just the two of them, in bliss, in their own space to figure everything out.

Mats notices, obviously. Smiling to himself, squinting his eyes as his confidence grows.

A muffled voice comes through over the speakers to announce their stop. Their eye contact breaking suddenly as Mats stands up abruptly, holding out his palm for Marco to grab before he swoops him off the train and then before Marco can even take in their surroundings, Mats is right in his ear whispering and promising and complimenting in his husky voice that always turns Marco to jelly. 

It’s completely dark by now and the air has gone much colder with the dark clouds descending in the sky, moody and atmospheric around the two of them as the tracks glow and the metal panel that Mats has Marco pushed up against creeks as they toy with each other flirtatiously. 

Marco’s pupils are blown, everything rushing around in his mind of how _‘this is my Mats, this is who I want’_ , he can’t stop watching as Mats still runs with his words, telling Marco how gorgeous he is and how much just the sight of his fucking smirk is wearing him thin right now.

He does it intentionally as he hears that, biting his lip for good measure as he makes sure Mats has full view of his wanting expression, the limited light above them casting shadows against both of their faces, causing their cheekbones to shine as their eyes darken and their lips jut further forward from the contours, looking flush and fucking gorgeous as they continue to verbally tease each other. 

Marco grabs him round the waist, turning him around and grabbing his hand as they stumble, hand in hand contrasting boldly against the calm, moonlit bridge in a bid to get home that bit quicker.

 

Their home isn’t too far away from the station, Mats stumbling with the key as he fights with the lock until the dark hallway becomes visible and he drags Marco into him.

“Been thinking about this for days, babe” Mats groans into his neck before he begins to suck on the soft skin, feeling Marco nodding against his chin, feeling his sigh as he scrapes his teeth against the raw skin as he pulls back, and that’s all it takes for Marco to lose himself in Mats completely.

In the forefront of his mind is their day, where they enjoyed each other’s company and they talked and they laughed and they gave each other little kisses as their shoulders brushed; Marco’s chest felt light, wanting to burst with all the overjoyed feeling he has for this moment, this whole day and how perfect everything feels right now.


	8. Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco believes him and Mats are stronger than they've been in months, until they're suddenly further apart than ever...

They’re on top of the covers, relentless in their movements. The longing for intimacy Marco felt earlier on has shifted, morphed into hunger and necessity. He wants Mats to show him what he means, show him what he’s been waiting for. So Marco tells him that with his confident body language, in his darkening gaze, in his luring mannerisms and it doesn’t take Mats long to get the hints.

 _‘Perfect’_ Mats thinks. _'Got you.'_

Grinning at the gestures, Mats pushes Marco’s face upwards with his forehead, moving underneath his jawline as he pushes Marco further into the covers. Marco swallows loudly, his jaw flexing making Mats more aware, more conscious, more entranced.

“You’re fucking beautiful, babe” he groans, his voice low as he rakes his teeth over the cartilage of Marco’s right ear, nipping at the sensitive spot and breathing heavily into his ear. Marco’s already squirming, the sensations overwhelming they’re so delicate and Mats knows how much he likes it so he does it again, blowing lightly and whispering while he brings up his left hand to cup under Marco’s chin, softly, but harsh enough that he can be in control of Marco’s movements. So that he can feel when Marco’s mouth slips open and a soft moan slips out as the sensations increase.

The moans go straight to Mats’ growing erection, still trapped in his tight jeans. He feels the heat intensifying as Marco’s hands begin roaming over his bare chest, both of their shirts already discarded on the way up to their bedroom.

Marco settles at Mats’ hips which are protruding above the denim, strong and sharp. His breath hitches and Marco moans again, missing that sound and wanting it more, caressing and rubbing at Mats’ flesh, gaining more trust in himself and in Mats.

He decides it’s time they were both finally naked, unable to bare the restraints of his remaining clothing so he grabs at the rough material around Mat’s hips and pushes. Mats’ is so ready he can’t stand it, helping Marco with both of their garments, shoving Marco’s past his knees and down his calves as he lifts himself up for Marco to do the same for him. 

They smirk at each other, gaining eye contact and keeping it. Their eyes fully connecting once the clothing is no longer a barrier for them, moving their bodies closer, Mats pulls Marco down, away from the pillows so he’s completely flat below him. Marco pushes his right hand up into Mats’ hair, resting the bottom of his palm on the side of his face, near his temple so he can use his thick locks to pull him close, further down on top of him.

They break eye contact as they begin to work each other’s lips, dry, biting roughly, making their lips chapped as they rub and nip against each other. 

It’s intense. Marco’s thinking _'God this is fucking hot,'_ just as he thinks they’ve reach the heights of raunchiness; however, Mats steps it up that bit further, forcing out the most gloriously needy moan from low in Marco’s throat, scratching down Marco’s back as he crashes their hips together while they’re busy still biting at each other’s lips. _'Jesus, fucking hell...'_ Marco has to close his eyes fully as they role backwards below his flickering eyelids. 

It’s too much. It’s everything he wants and Mats knows it. 

Marco knows what’s coming next when he feels mats wetting both their lips, giving moisture back to their raw, peeling skin. Pulling his face away, Mats drags himself over to his left, Marco’s right, so that he can push his fingers into his own debauched mouth, Marco’s quick to grab his wrist though, his expression curious as Mats frowns, but he realises quickly what Marco wants.

He takes the two fingers into his mouth that Marco’s offering, making sure to show Marco exactly what he can do with his tongue. Marco grins as he sees the realisation on Mats face, relieved that his wordless prompt was received well more than anything… 

Mats kneels up as he pulls his mouth off of Marco’s now slick fingers, wanting a good view as he watches Marco below him. He’s curving his back to push out his hips, making sure that if Marco looks down at any time he’s going to see Mat’s tensing front, then his hand wraps loosely around his dick as he watches from above.

Marco breaths out slowly, curving his arse backwards as he holds himself up with his left arm so he can push his right underneath him, using his spit-slick fingers to tease himself quickly before he just can’t take it. Closing his eyes as he lets out a soft groan, he pushes his first finger slowly through, feeling himself opening up. He opens his eyes when he’s got the first finger moving in a slow rhythm, looking up to catch Mats looking predatory and dark. Mats is staring at Marco’s blushing features, moving his hands away from himself to smooth up Marco’s thighs which makes Marco shut his eyes at such contact.

Marco’s already feeling it with himself, putting the most amount of pressure he dares to with is finger before he decides to pull out and push the two fingers in together. Mats is watching as the pucker stretches, he grabs Marco closer to him, sliding him closer so that his arse is balanced on the edge of Mats' right knee, which make Marco moan and buck at the sudden movement. It’s much more intense being angled so roughly and he’s able to push in so much further as he curves his spine even harder.

His moans get louder and Mats wants full control back because this is too much for him to just sit back and watch so he brings Marco’s legs into a diamond shape as he moves above him once more to mouth at his collar bones, up towards his ear again where he tells him exactly what he wants to do to him.

By now Marco’s past making noise, he’s heavy breathing and his forehead is scrunched up as he frowns at the movements of his own hand, Mats’ words getting jumbled up in his head everything is so intense, until Mats pushes up away from him, and he feels him tugging at his fingers to take them away from himself.

Marco whines at that until he feels Mats cross their fingers together, slamming their palms tight above their heads against the soft fabric beneath them as they finally start moving their bodies together. Grinding their dicks together as their lips connect in another round of brutal biting and sucking. 

“Want you” Marco groans between heavy breaths, “Mats, now, come on...” he smiles as they fight against each other.

“You sure?” Mats asks, teasing, smiling back as he pulls a hand away to steady Marco’s jolting hips so he can finally push into his begging body. 

Marco brings his legs up to wrap around Mats, allowing all the access he can give and Mats takes it, takes all of him in one swift movement.

It’s rough and it’s overwhelming and they cry out in pleasure against each other as they thrash and moan and arch. Their sweat covered bodies sticking to each other as they collide, their breathing moist with their air around them, loud and reckless and raw as they lose complete control of themselves, coming together as they falter. Their movements go ragged and slow as their heart rates increase at the intensity, Marco can feel himself clenching tight around Mats as he comes down from his high, seeing his come splattered down Mats’ sweat glistening muscles on his abdomen and moaning as he feels the last of Mats come inside him.

 

Mats’ feels invincible as he composes himself again, his pupils massive and his hair clinging to his forehead. Marco thinks this sight alone could be enough to make him come all over again if he wasn’t so worn out.

Instead he opts for lifting up a heavy arm towards Mats cheek, stroking his hair out of his eyes gently as they reconnect with soft features and glowing smiles. 

“Definitely missed that.” Mats declares as he sighs, moving to lie back beside Marco whose grabbed his boxers from the floor to haphazardly wipe his come off of Mats’ tummy with an amused look on his face.

Mats laughs as he watches and then kisses him gently on his forehead, moving them closer so that they cuddle together on top of the messy sheets. 

Mats' shoulders tense as his breathing begins to regulate again, his heartbeat turning shallow against Marco's shoulder and all of a sudden the air feels uneasy. Like there’s a rift opening up again between them and the moment for Marco gets shattered by Mats’ deep, sleepy voice.

“Don’t you ever walk out on me for that long again, right?”

That hollow feeling of dread and the expectation of treading on eggshells returning heavily like a massive punch straight to the gut. His sweaty face beaming red all over again, this time from panic and shame and completely off-guard shock as his arms prickle freezing cold with goosebumps.

His throat tightens as he looks up at the ceiling with embarrassed, teary eyes.

_'Right.'_


	9. Contortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mats gets worse in order to 'make Marco better'.

As Marco lay there under the covers, he went over and over again in his mind, repeating Mats’ words. Making plans for how to make it up to him for being away for so long.

_'I have to make thigs right. I need to show him that he’ll on no occasion have to worry for me again. I’ll be so good that saying those things won’t be necessary. I’ll do my best for him if it kills me.'_

\---

Marco wakes groggily. His ears ringing, like the insides of his brain are just cracking into pieces between his skull. The pain in his forehead minimising the sight in his left eye in the form of an unbearable migraine.

It takes him a second to remember the events leading him to his current state. When he does, his blood runs cold, his hands begin to shake and hairs on the back of neck stand on edge as the painful feeling of absolute terror fills his lungs. His chest gets tight and his stomach heavy; the lump in his throat is his excuse to remain silent. He’s slightly relieved. Not wanting to talk at all. Wishing he was still asleep or unconscious, or even dead.

The sudden cracking sound behind him makes him flinch horribly. Giving away his alertness instantly. He closes his eyes as he realises he’s just revealed himself. Breaths coming in short and barely touching his lips before they’re expelled again, his thoughts racing at the potential ways this situation is heading. So wrapped up in the confluence of _everything_ that he doesn’t register Mats’ words until he’s repeated himself for the third time.

“God Marco, are you deaf?” he chuckles lightly. Nudging Marco’s left arm, getting a real kick when he sees that Marco almost jumps right out of his seat at the ephemeral contact.

Mats is genuinely amused at the situation and Marco feels like he’s about to scream. His brain is still hardly functioning and he can’t seem to rationalise the situation.

_'I’m sat in the kitchen, pushed right up to our table, I don’t remember sitting myself down. I feel like I’ve been drowned or something equally as horrific while Mats is over there making breakfast.'_

“Mats, what’s going on? I feel awful…”

\---

Mats had woken in the middle of the night, Marco’s insistent fidgeting and twisting had been enough to disturb him from his dream state. 

Irritated, Mats narrows his gaze at the darkness around him, seeing silhouettes of their room as his vision adjusted. His head hasn’t lifted from the pillow yet. He’s gauging Marco’s irritating movements while he blinks, balancing himself and bringing himself into full awareness before he whips his body around from lying on his right side. He shifts quickly onto his front and all too quickly he’s swinging his right arm into Marco’s face as he’s innocently laying there, trapped in his own thoughts and completely unaware that Mats was even awake until he felt like he’d been gouged in the eye.

Marco’s lashes scrunch up into his right eye socket, getting caught and twisted as they mix with tears as he tries to see what the hell is going on. His hands never make it to his throbbing face as he feels Mats on top of him, ragging on his short blonde hair as he spits into Marco’s scrunched up features.

Using his left hand for balance as well as pulling Marco’s head further into the pillows by his own strands of hair, Mats uses his right to send a sharp slap rebounding across Marco’s left cheek before he gets his throat locked in his palm. Marco’s recognising what is happening by now. Feeling the flashbacks of the last time Mats has gripped so menacingly at his throat like this and thinking about how those bruises that were almost gone would be burning bright red and purple again soon.

Whimpering at the thought of having to watch his skin heal all over again after promising himself that he would do everything to make sure he would be okay.

_'I’ve failed both of us all ready. I know Mats is only doing what I deserve…'_

“I-I’m s-so sorry” he whispers as he anticipates Mats’ hold to get tighter. “M-Mats please-”

Marco lets out a sudden breath that scratches his throat at the severity as Mats yanks his hair back so much that Marco’s back arches and the crown of his head ends up fully leaning on the pillow below him. His forehead skims against the cold wood of their headboard and he feels Mats face press up against his right cheek, his nose brushing Marco’s temple as he growls into his ear “Shut your ugly mouth, you don’t deserve to speak after the way you’ve treated me.”

At that, Mats shoves Marco’s head with his left hand leaving his hair roughly. Marco’s neck contorts at the sudden movement and the way that Mats’ right hand is still squeezing tightly around his airway.

He screams at the pain, feeling like he’s spinning as he closes his eyes again, unable to deal with the idea of Mats’ hateful glare anymore. His eyes sting as they close, adjusting to the bloodshot feel as his lashes clash together again, brushing the skin just below his eyes with the wetness of the tears he’s too afraid to let fall.

Mats’ instincts have adjusted enough that with the limited light available and the fact that he’s been staring at Marco’s crippling form this whole time, that he can now make out how Marco is lying without having to look at his repulsive form anymore. He snarls at the sickening crack of Marco’s neck that cuts through the silence, his mind going blank for a few moments as he feels nothing but sheer adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

As he lifts his own neck upwards, stretching the channels of his skin, feeling the power of being so in control. Showing Marco that he won’t get away with neglecting him _ever_ again.

Mats’ smile is wide, angled up towards the invisible ceiling above them, he’s feeling disgustingly satisfied. 

After what seems to Mats to have been several minutes, as his breathing begins to calm down again. He begins loosening each of the fingers on his right hand, still wrapped around Marco’s wheezing throat.  
Flexing them experimentally and as he expected, Marco flinches again, feeling the sudden movement after several minutes of painfully silent terror, waiting, preparing for something else to happen.

As he flinched, Mats brought his left hand up and backwards, tensing his fingers into talon-like shapes before completely balling his fist up. He uses the knuckle of his middle finger as the spearhead of his fist as he launches his arm straight into Marco’s right cheekbone, pushing down further with his right hand on the way down to get as much force into the punch as possible.

Mats feels incredible, like he’s glowing. The sweat on his back suddenly feeling cold as he takes in the contrast of the buoyant, still atmosphere after what he’s done. 

He lets go of Marco’s twitching form in favour of savouring the tingle in his wrist. The amount of force he used surpassing even his confidence of his own strength... 

Grinning with amusement and feeling so incredibly predatory towards Marco, he whispers to him as he removes himself from his withering body altogether. “I forgive you”, leaning back over Marco again for all but a second to kiss his sticky, grimacing forehead before he pulls backwards to lay back under the covers, snuggling up to Marco’s side and making light circle patterns near his left hip, soothing both of them back into the calmness of the night as if nothing had even happened.

Those words are the last thing Marco registers before his body’s had enough and turns his vision into nothingness and his pain into ethereal, faint undertones.

\---

Marco’s squinting at the brightness of the sunlight beaming through the windows in the kitchen, clutching at his eye as he flinches at the worsening of his migraine as he waits for a response from Mats. 

“I’m making food. You’ve been unconscious for two days but you looked more like yourself this morning... More colour in your cheeks, so I thought I’d bring you downstairs so I can have company while I eat.” 

Marco’s tensing shoulders ease up at the calm, almost melodic tone to Mats’ voice, before he realises what he’s actually just said to him. _'Oh- Wait. What?'_

“Days? I- _Days!?_ ”

Mats turns around with a plate and sets it down on his side of the table before he moves over to hold Marco gently by the shoulders, “Don’t get worked up, babe, I knew you’d be a bit worn out so I just thought you should sleep it off for as long as you needed. _You did seem pretty shattered_ ”.

Marco’s speechless. He feels sick and rotten and confused as hell. 

His heart is beating at pace and as he looks down to his bony arms he sees how deathly pale he is. He can’t even imagine how ghostly sick his face must be.

Taking in the whole situation, he thinks to himself; _'Mats seems so worried about me, God, I must’ve scared him so much being out for so long like that.'_

“Thank you for taking care of me” Marco’s looking across the table, right into Mats’ eyes as he genuinely acknowledges what he perceives to be sincere concern on Mats’ face.

“It’s so good to see you smile, babe. Your eyes are glistening this morning” he replies; the compliment being received warmly by Marco. His face may be aching, but a compliment like that is enough to make him feel on top of the world again.

Marco pushes his hand across the table, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles and blushes, “I love you” he grins, biting his lip at the excitement of that declaration never getting old for him no matter how many times he and Mats declare it to each other. 

Mats grasps his hand softly, rubbing at the curve or Marco’s thumb with the pad of his own as he responds warmly, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate having to write Mats like this. When I first had the idea for this I didn't realise he'd end up so violent, i'm really sorry...
> 
> I hope all of the description was easy to understand and that the way I set out the switch between scenes wasn't too confusing.


	10. Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the little things are starting to stack up.

Marco’s shaking slightly. Still having had no food or water while having to sit and endure Mats pilling down his breakfast right in front of him. That was hours ago now and Marco still felt weird about why Mats had moved him down stairs.

_'Had he moved me this morning? Have I been here since yesterday? Have I been here all night?'_

Marco’s thoughts shifted, thinking more about Mats’ words than his actions. He’d sat there, so easily sat gazing down at Marco, making comments about Marco’s weight, telling him to watch those pounds he looks like he’s gained and then smirking as if it was all just a joke.

Mats’ voice begins spiralling in his mind again now. He closes his eyes and focuses on the words. 

_' I know I need to work on myself. '_  
Marco thinks as he opens his eyes again, coming back to the reality that he’s definitely still in the kitchen.

_'Didn’t need to be so fucking blunt with it though, did he…'_

Still gasping for a drink, not so much for the food now though.  
_'I can do without that for a while. '_

 

Consumed in his dehydrated state, Marco knows he’s probably been dull company. Feeling the sharp pains in his chest and a fresh headache coming on after the first seemed to fade for a while. 

 

He brushes a heavy hand up through his hair, feeling the slight greasiness within the thick texture, scrunching his face up a bit and wondering if Mats would be up for a quick shower together.

Looking up, though, Marco realises that the look on Mats’ face was not going to be perked up by his hopeful idea.

 

Mats is twitchy and irritable. He can’t stay still and his eyes have gone incredibly dark. 

He feels Marco’s stare fall on him, lingering. He looks up as Marco moves and the irritation Mats feels just from Marco’s existence could be broken into shards it feels so thin and unstable within his tightening chest.

Getting up from his chair, Mats shoves at it harshly with the backs of his calves, making sure the shriek the wood makes against the floor will break Marco’s silent, seemingly daydreaming form. 

It works. 

Marco flinches hard, looking up with concern at the abrupt movements in front of him to see that Mats has started pacing. Breathing heavily as he broadens his shoulders, stopping in a towering stance above Marco.

“Do you ever get sick of yourself? Because fucking hell are you boring me right now.”

His voice is full of disgust, his tone low and lacking any trace of the soft, caring nature he showed to Marco only hours ago.

 

Marco stays silent. Even after the third degrading comment Mats comes out with. His head spinning from his worsening dehydration, and his eyes feeling scratchy and bloodshot. He pushes the horrible words further to the front of his thoughts, combining them with the earlier ones about his weight.  
It’s all adding up.

_I didn’t realise I’ve got so much to work on. How has it taken me so long to realise?_

 

Mats is noticing Marco’s unresponsiveness, yelling once again about how inconsiderate and inattentive Marco is and before Marco can even register what Mats is saying, he’s gone from sitting, to pacing and then just walking out of the room. 

Marco doesn’t know where to begin with processing all of this information. This whole situation fells like such a fucking mess and he honestly doesn’t understand how it escalated.

He really thought the two of them were beginning to get better. To being happy again.

Being stuck to their kitchen table, feeling like shit and being told as much definitely isn’t how he’d imagined their situation to be right now. And frankly he’s beginning to wish all over again that he was still unconscious.

Marco reverts to looking downwards. Not trusting his brain to articulate words properly and being too weak to want to bother his lungs with trying to gasp for more air as he splutters the jumbled words out.

_'This is horrendous.'_

\--

Marco can smell the gritty, herb-like scent of Mats’ cologne before he’s anywhere near the kitchen, so when Mats finally does slink his body round the door frame, Marco’s breath catches in his throat.

“Shit Mats, look at you” Marco’s eyes are all over Mats, taking his whole look in sections,

Starting with the eyes, now smoky looking with smudged black liner and a hint of pencil through his brows that frame those beautiful eyes even more, making him look striking and suggestive all at once.

Strands of wavy hair are spiralling down the left of his forehead, clinging together all tousled and natural looking, even though Marco knows there’s probably way more product keeping them in place than Mats would _ever_ care to admit.

His outfit didn’t disappoint either, starting with his low cut charcoal V-neck, paired with tight fitting jeans that hug his thighs so well Marco has to take his gaze back up to Mats’ beautifully lit features-

“You dressed up for me?” Marco asks, not entirely convinced after the way Mat’s was with him only a couple of hours ago, but hopeful that maybe they were about to fix whatever got broken…

Mats’ rolls his eyes as he walks fully into the kitchen, smirking, almost looking repulsed at Marco’s naive question.

“I’m going out for a while, Marco” Mat’s murmurs, running his palm comfortingly over the crown of Marco’s head as he nudges their faces together. They linger together for a couple of moments before their lips almost meet, Mats making sure to tease Marco by just grazing their flesh together before he pulls back again, turning away from Marco.

Then, confidently and menacingly he’s striding out of the kitchen without even one more word. His head raised high with all the confidence in the word as his shoulders doing that ‘hard-lad’ sway he pulls off so effortlessly.

Marco’s left shocked and stuttering, hearing the front door slam before he can even ask Mats where he’s going.


	11. Shattered

Marco can’t take it anymore.

Sighing at the empty feeling taking over his body, he feels a strange but familiar contradiction flood his consciousness. Safety, from finally being alone in his own space. Panic, at being so suddenly rejected by the person he loves. 

The relief of being given some peace from all the hoops he’s been pushed to leap through by Mats after being back home no more than a day is what pushes him to let himself finally leave the constraints of the table on shaky limbs, despite Mats’ orders to _stay put and stay still._

Realising suddenly, or _remembering_ , all over again that he’s actually been here three days now, only he hadn’t seen the light of day for two of them. That feeling bringing such an eerie feeling at the back of his neck, uneasiness flowing through his aching spine. 

_'How can two days of rest make me feel so fucking awful?'_

Marco leans against the wall for support as he moves slowly into the downstairs bathroom to see himself in the mirror for the first time since he got back to the house.

Forgetting momentarily about everything that happened days ago, just wanting to see how pale he’s assuming he is. Needing some visual context for why he feels so shitty.

 

When he looks up into the mirror his heart threatens to stop beating there and then.

Marco gasps inwardly. Bringing his shaking fingers up to his chapped lips as he stares back at himself, piercing his reflection’s stare with his own bloodshot eyes. He can’t look away but it’s too much all at the same time. Conflicted at the view in front of him, he just keeps staring. Taking everything in. seeing the visuals that back up how sick he is and how vulnerable and lost he feels. That really wasn’t what he expected on such a scale.

He thought the mirror would just confirm to him that he was overreacting. That he’s fine and just needs a drink and a plan to make everything up to Mats.

But this changes everything. 

This is Marco’s reality and he’s finally witnessed how much Mats has broken him.

He sees his mottled skin the flashbacks flood to his vision. The feelings of terror and dizziness so intense and sickening.

He feels phantom sensations of Mats’ hands around his neck. Recalling how he had begged Mats to stop, remembering the terrifying look on his poorly lit face as he pushed down harder and raised his other hand to Marco’s cheekbone.

Eying the red and purple blotches around the black and blue marks that very clearly map where Mats’ knuckles connected with Marco’s features. He lifts a hand to brush the tips of his nails against the bruising, flinching even at the slightest touch. Dropping his head and his hand back down towards the ground as his throat goes tight again; too tight for his sobbing to be vocalised, but enough for him to feel relief as the tears do fall.

Marco can’t believe how gaunt and skinny and ill he is. 

Coupled with the reality of fresh bruising contrasting harshly with his deathly pale skin. His neck, along with his cheekbone, is bruised so mercilessly that the dark blue and purple marks mix together in splotches creating pitch black hollow crescents that ache, fresh and brutally painful.

He wipes the tears away before they can reach his neck. Determined to be strong. Determined to push through.

 

Now that he’s fully acknowledged their existence to be true representation rather than phantom pains of lethargy and his imperviousness,

 

Marco falls apart. 

Its slow and he watches as it happens right in front of him. 

Staring back at himself almost in a trance. Like he’s watching himself from another dimension. From another world.

He doesn’t recognise himself. The detachment becoming too much for him to bear.

It’s quiet but Marco feels like his brain is on fire it’s so butchered.

 

His vision keeps zoning out to nothing in particular as he takes in the moment. His eyes landing back up to his face as he searches for some kind of answer for a question he hasn’t quite formed yet.

Looking closer, Marco realises his features hold a stern certainty. He carries anger through every pore and expression line, but all he feels inside is detachment. _I’ve got nothing left to give. Nothing left to lose._

Cold and numb and dejected.

 

“What happened to you?” He whispers to the shadow reflecting back at him in the glass.

The tears stream down his cheeks at that. As he fully begins to feel the weight of the situation, searching his face for answers and feeling that distressing, sharp pain in his chest as realises he really has no grasp on his current reality.

Stressed out suddenly, emotions surging into his brain all at once. Overloading him. He lets out a panicked cry, forcing it out of his tightening throat as the tears flood down his face. The pain in his chest taking over.  
He feels the heat radiating from his face as he lifts a hand up to trace the bruise along his cheekbone. The warmth of his skin completely contrasting with the emptiness he felt moments ago as everything crashes down on top of him. Becoming more aware of his body’s reactions he notices how fast his heart is beating, almost feeling detached from his body completely. Like he could feel the sensations and see his features, but they didn’t truly belong to him.

Hearing the beat of his heart sharply within his eardrums only increases his panic, he feels the balance of his body change, making him much lighter as he focuses on his latest realisation.

_I am not my body. I am not this person. I don’t connect with what I look like. What the fuck does this mean!?_

Marco’s voice echoes around his brain as he yells to himself. More aware of himself than he thinks he’s ever been in his whole life. And hating everything he sees. 

He can’t bring himself to control his tears this time. Letting them run down his neck, silently watching through sticky eyelashes and blurred vision as the top of his pale grey shirt turns darker. He feels soggy and gross as his tears begin pooling above the seam, falling so quickly that they end up sticking to his neck and chest as the t-shirt can’t handle the sudden mop-up duty.

Unable to breathe, he pushes both hands against the glass, bending his arms close into himself, feeling with his palms just how fast his heart is beating in his chest. His cheeks rest there, on the mirror; he feels the heat of his burning skin clash with the freezing cold structure. It’s harsh but quickly reassuring, in a sick kind of way as he takes in a shaky breath and smirks to himself with no real emotion, looking himself right in the eyes, bullying himself once again with his internal monologue,

_'Well at least it’s not only Mats that makes me flinch.'_

-

Marco gets sick of the sight of himself very quickly as his tears slowly stop streaming.

He pulls at the sleeves of his grey shirt, pulling them up over his palms to use as tissues as he scrapes the material roughly against his irritated skin and red, veiny eyelids.

After drying his face, he doesn’t even look back up at the mirror one last time, he just turns straight to the sink to splash soothing cold water over his face. He realises how much he’s shaking at this point as the water in his hands ends up drenching his hair as well he’s so agitated. Rolling his eyes at himself, _'I don’t even care, I just want to sleep forever…'_

Dragging a soft towel from the obnoxiously gleaming rail by the shower, he dabs at his face to remove the cold droplets before rushing it messy through his hair and throwing it to the floor to mop up any water he managed to get on the tiles. After that he just sighs, turning off all the lights from the bathroom, turning towards the stairs and climbing them shakily, as if he’s in a trance almost, then trudging through to the hallway, not bothering to turn on the light when he finally gets to the bedroom. 

Feeling heavy and nauseous and still horrendously dehydrated, Marco just climbs under the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut, not even giving himself any more time to think as he buries his head under the safety of the comforting, soft covers, letting the spinning sensations of his vertigo take over him.


	12. Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's all Mats...

Mats hasn’t given Marco a second thought all night, honestly.

The club he’s in is the one he always comes to, to get off his face and just _let go._

There’s a big, glossy-looking stage to his left with poles and an array of gorgeous black leather seats for when the selective dancers are requested.

The club’s known for its raunchiness, though. That’s why Mats likes it. He’s been the centre of attention on that stage way more times than he’s ever bothered to count. 

Around the edges, framing the big stage are higher, smaller platforms where the club’s individual dancers are stationed all night. There are grungy metallic steps the wind around the walls, connecting all of the dancers together to make them look like a dramatic ring high up above everyone else, so they’re completely on show all night; encircling the whole atmosphere of the club.

The guys are all wearing tight black boxers with leather suspenders falling from their waists that cross over in the back as the sides hang delicately, framing their legs, creating patterns in the air with each dancer’s intricate movements. 

The girls are wearing thigh high stockings and suspender belts on top of their black shorts and off the shoulder, lacy black crop tops that show off their sexy figures as they move. 

Every dancer has pure white stripes painted across their cheeks, collarbones and shoulders, while all the guys have stark white hair and all the girls have pitch black, sleek ponytails that whip through the air as their movements get more and more dramatic as they flow with the music.

Mats takes a big breath in as he walks through the doors, breathing out a sigh of relief as he feels the familiarity of the place sinking into him. Heading straight for the bar as he notes that the stage is empty.

 _I’ll be having some fun up there in a bit, then._ he thinks, smirking to himself. Feeling more than content in the place already.

-

Somewhere between downing his fourth shot and receiving a second sleazy chat-up line he started feeling ridiculously assured of himself, turning his head away from the hot as fuck bartender, he finds his gaze falling on someone a little more interesting who was making no effort to conceal his gaze. 

Smirking to himself, Mats moves over to him, putting all his charm into a seemingly genuine smile  
“Want another?” Mats asked, nodding towards the guy’s almost finished glass. 

The guy raises an eyebrow at him in a perusing manner. He turns his face more towards Mats and the glowing lights around them form harsh shadows around his face at the change of angle.  
They’re so far into darkness that his cheekbones light up in such contrast, combining with the shine of his bright blue eyes and the pout of his soft looking lips that he just looks like a vision of art. All angles, sharp and perfect working so well with his dark hair framing his features delicately, softening his overall appearance but definitely not diminishing it.

“I’ve got a better idea,in to” the guy says, pulling Mats in closer towards him to make sure he can hear him against the brashness of the music,

“Whoever’s slowest at downing these next two shots has to get up on stage and give the other a lap dance”

Mats’ grin turned predatory, his eyes turning to slits like the confidence of a snake who’s just found their latest prey to torture.

“You’ve no idea what you’re letting yourself in for, mate” he’s replied confidently with a coy wink and a deadly smirk.

Mats lost on purpose. Already imaging all eyes on him up on that stage. The attention, the heat and the intrigue of such public raunchiness with a complete stranger only enticing his curiosity, boosting his ego and giving him something to get off on all at once.

“Unlucky mate, best get your fit arse on stage for me”  
The guy purred in Mats’ ear, no trace of embarrassment in his voice as he moved unsteadily with Mats, pulling him over to the platform. 

_'Fuck, this is gonna be good'_ , Mats thinks to himself. Excitement raging in his dizzy thoughts as his smirk gets wider and he nods his head in acceptance. 

Following _blue-eyed guy_ ’s lead Mats takes his palm as he climbs up between one of the poles, sliding his head along the smooth, cooling frame, wedging it between his neck and shoulder for balance as he hears whistles from others in the club getting louder, combining with the bass-heavy music that’s blaring out.

Mats knows he’s getting a lot of attention from the noise that’s piped up around him. He closes his eyes to just revel in such a dirty pose in front of all of these strangers. The heat from all of the lights around him pooling in the form of humid, sticky air as he breaths in the gritty smell of sweat and smoke and alcohol mixed with the metallic of the stage. 

Mats feels his confidence cultivating within his chest as he begins to move his body closer to his _blue-eyed guy._

Moving his body backwards towards the guy, Mats twists his hips right in front of him, swaying his body flirtatiously as he frames his face by bending his left arm to push the tips of his fingers into his hairline as he turns his head to gain eye contact again with those icey-blues.

Seeing the smirk appear on the guy’s face really makes Mats want to amplify the intensity. He turns his head back up to centre, away from the gathering crowd and as the beat kicked in on a new song he used that to keep his rhythm in time as he worked himself up to get into his full character.

Pushing his arms out, Mats shrugs his leather jacket down his arms, keeping it from falling any further than the creases of his elbows, letting it pool together at the mid-point of his back as he focused on the guy sat in front of him. Mats pushes his jaw up, narrowing his gaze before stalking forwards towards him, nudging the guy’s legs further apart so he can perch himself on the stranger’s knee.

Lifting his head up slowly, he makes eye contact with those vibrant eyes once again, watching his features change as he sees the intrigue and excitement at having him so close, Mats brings up his left hand to frame the guy’s strong jaw, leaning into his right and whispering hotly, “No touching just yet. Wait ‘til I’ve finished the show first.” 

Winking at that, Mats doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s taken his hands away from his face before he starts grinding his arse down against the stranger’s knee and pushing his hands up under his fitted shirt to show off his muscular torso. 

Pushing himself up, away from the guy completely, Mats kneels up using the arms of their chair for support as he brings his thighs up towards the guys face, swaying his hips and enjoying the feeling of just being watched, letting everything go from his mind as he uses his body to just be I such a carefree state. 

_It does help to know he currently has his dick only centimetres from a fit stranger’s mouth, however._

The song is getting more intense and his guy is beginning to look beyond wrecked at not being able to pursue Mats as he watches him remove his shirt and drape his sweat glistening, fucking gorgeous body over the full expanse of his leg, 

Pushing his arse up and smirking to himself at how fucking good that stretch feels for him, Mats curves his back down further, filthier, so his chest can align perfectly with the guy’s thigh. Fitting his forehead gently against his torso absolutely did it for the tortured stranger and all he can think to do is push his hands up into Mats’ hair and tug at him to try and get some real friction going or, just, _anything_ to occupy his restless hands.

Mats’ feels the tug and laughs breathily against the soft skin of the guy’s hip, pushing the denim of his jeans that bit lower and making sure to curve his back even further as he licked along the exposed flesh.

The moan he hears at that just spurs him on even further, pushing up the tight fabric of his shirt and giving him a wicked, powerful look as the guy all but rips his own shirt off. Mats uses his right hand to undo the zip and button on the guy’s jeans and wastes no time pushing the heal of his palm right up against his dick, watching as the guy’s previously piercing eyes turned glazed before shutting completely at the abrupt contact.

Mats wasn’t about the stop there, with the guy’s eyes still squeezed together, he slides off of his knee and in one fluid movement twists his body around to sit right in between his legs.

Pushing his head back, Mats whispers hotly into the guy’s ear, receiving nothing but a moan in return as Mats begins grinding again, feeling his own body responding to the way he’s feeling as well as the sensation of feeling the guy’s dick beneath him. 

Turning the charm on even further, he carries on whispering filth that seems to turn the guy on more and more just gets Mats off so fucking much.

Mats’ doesn’t want to fuck him; he just wants to toy with him.

 _'Maybe I’ll get him right to the edge and leave him begging.'_

Smirking at that thought, he puts more pressure on his twists as he moves his hips, using his right hand to grab the back of the guy’s dark, long hair, using it to pull his head right back with his chin pushing up high in the air. Following his body as he guides him backwards, Mats pushes his spine up against the guy’s chest, smothering him with his shoulders as he arches his back once again, making sure that this guy can feel absolutely every detail of his movements on top of him.

“Fuck, you really don’t mess around, do you?” he comments, breathless and turned on beyond belief.

He’s stuck his nails into the armrests of the plush chair when Mats had first been stalking towards him, and now with all the pressure and pleasure that he isn’t allowed to return in touches, he’s taken out of the leather armrests of the seat; grabbing hold of the material, scratching, pulling, distressing it in the hopes of some sort of relief as Mats gets rougher and rougher with him.

_He definitely wasn’t gonna complain…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a lap dance before haha  
> I was nervous to post this one so sorry if it's terrible!!!


	13. Breathe

When Mats finally gets home, it’s bordering on 3 am and he’s stumbling out of a taxi, grabbing at the pockets of his leather jacket for his keys. Quickly residing, without even properly trying, to the fact that he “Can’t fucking find them.”

Not being able to see straight at all, he stumbles up towards the front door. The path’s a blurry mess and all around him is silence and light spots of rain fall that are highlighted orange-tinged from the street light further up the indistinct road.

With frustration pouring throughout his body he begins bashing on the front door, screaming Marco’s name as he kneels down to push open the letter box.

Marco’s awake, has been for a while. He’d woken up crying, feeling sick but finally being able to just get himself a glass of water feeling very much like strenuous progress. 

Lying back in bed again, sighing as the dull ache in his chest turns to palpations from all the energy he’s just used to even move. All the while still surrounded by darkness, preferring it to being able to see the mess he’s still a part of.

As he gulps down the glass full and reaches over to the jug to pour himself another, he realises, incredibly belatedly, that he hasn’t seen his phone since the train when he turned it off.

His vision narrows, leaving only the rim of the glass in focus as he zones out to try and think back to when he last had his phone.

_'Erik. I need to get to Erik.'_

Just as that thought sparked some sort of clarity in his mind, as he began trying to retrace his steps to find out where his phone might be. All those images forming in his head from when he and Mats had just got home that night, all over each other in the hall way- just as those visions began to take hold, Marco came crashing back to reality at the sound of loud banging on the front door down stairs.

“Marco, let me in!”

_'Shit.'_

“Marco! Babe! I can’t find my keys, please let me in, love!”

Mats’ voice became clearer as he began shouting through the letter box. Marco can tell now how drunk he is from the way he’s slurring his words out. He seems pretty out of it.

Unable to just block him out, and knowing full well that he can’t just leave him outside all night. Marco gets up out of bed, wincing at his aching body’s incapability of even _walking_ properly. 

He shakes that off quickly though, telling himself as he starts making a plan while he moves down the stairs, that if he can get this right with Mats he might be able to get himself out. 

_'If I can get Mats inside and up to bed, I can wait for him to fall asleep and find my phone. It should only take half a couple of minutes for it to charge up enough and then I’ll be able to call Erik to get me the fuck out of here…'_

Pushing his greasy strands from his face and nodding to himself to confirm his plan and reassure himself., Marco grabs his keys from the kitchen and unlocks the door to a babbling Mats, kneeling on the floor.

At the sight of Marco in the doorframe Mats looks up to find tired, puffy eyes and soft features in front of him, he smiles as he picks up his jacket from the floor and tries to stand up.

Marco’s heart is beating so much in his chest but he doesn’t let it show. Smiling softly at Mats, he pushes his hand out to help him up off the ground, feeling sick with himself and this whole situation.

“You’re freezing, Mats! I’ll get you an extra blanket when I’ve helped you upstairs, okay?”

Instantly feeling stupid at how genuine his concern is. Looking at the smudges of liner around Mats’ clearly unfocused eyes, seeing the frown creases forming along his clammy forehead as he concentrates on trying to stand- Marco can’t help but want to push his fingers through Mats’ lopsided curls and kiss him like he’s the most important human in the world. But all he feels is dejection and fear, tainting the view before him that really doesn’t match up to his desires.

_'This is such a mess. I’m such a mess.'_

Nodding at Marco’s words, Mats lets Marco guide him into their home, he hears the sharp click of the door shutting behind him as he drags his legs up the stairs with Marco holding him steady as they climb each step together.

“Feels like we’re climbing a mountain, this...” Marco mumbles. He laughs though, when his footing slips a little and Marco’s certain he’s in for a right slap or something equality as unjustified, but Mats just giggles and makes a content sigh at the comfort of leaning against Marco’s warm body and the ease of having stability from holding on to the banister on his other side.

Marco lets out the breath he’s been holding in as he realises Mats isn’t about to turn on him. Getting him up the stairs and up into bed is going to be a lot easier than he’d anticipated and at realising this, Marco feels butterflies of relief and complete thankfulness rush throughout his exhausted, stuffy chest.

Pulling back the covers, he let Mats starfish across the whole mattress before pushing the covers back over him. 

“I’ll pour you some water in a sec, okay. After I’ve got you a second blanket”

Mats looks like he’s totally gone, but Marco saw his subtle head nod and knows better than to just leave him without any indication of what he’s doing. He’s got to keep this as real-seeming as possible until he knows for sure that Mats is asleep.

When Marco returns with the second blanket, Mats has pushed himself up against the pillows with his shirt discarded and the bed cover pushed down just about covering his hips and he’s staring up at Marco with _that_ look in his eyes.

Marco suddenly feels uneasy, the air in the room feels less warm, now it’s all static and jarring.

“I missed you tonight, babe. Next time you should come with me... Like you used to.”

Marco could feel the tiny grasp he had on some sort of hope completely slipping away now.

_'I’m not getting out of here tonight.'_

Marco’s low was coming on strong again as he brought himself back to the images he saw of himself in the mirror only hours ago. 

_I don’t fucking care._ He thinks. Pushing a clammy hand up to rub his forehead, feeling fidgety and exhausted. He pushes those last hopeful thoughts of escape from his mind and focuses on Mats. Keeping him happy is his main priority for tonight.

“You want this blanket, love?” Marco asks, making sure Mats wasn’t going to go off on one if he tries to place it over him. 

Marco’s looking up at him through his lashes as he bends down to place the fabric down at the end of the bed, waiting for Mats’ reply and trying his best to push positive tones through his voice, even though he just feels repulsed at the words coming out of his mouth.

“Nah babe, leave it near the bottom. I’ve got you to keep me warm, I don’t need anything else” he replies, showing his teeth in a predatory smirk though his eyes give away his intoxication since he can’t keep them open as he speaks.

“Actually, I was gonna go downstairs for a bit, give you some peace…”

Opening his eyes, Mats moves to pull at the cover from over the left side of the bed in a silent demand for Marco to get into bed with him as he shuffles further over to the right. Mats looks down at Marco’s side of the bed, turning his chin up and meeting Marco’s tired gaze with piercing glare, 

“Get in the bed, Marco” Completely disregarding everything Marco just said to him.

“Mats, you’re drunk... We don’t have to- “

“I _want_ to. Babe.”

It’s guileless and it’s slurred, but Marco knows Mats isn’t messing around. His dread rising.

_'I was so sure he’d have fucking blacked out by now…'_

Marco’s hands are shaking as he completely lets go of the fabric he’s been holding on to, as if it could have been a last-ditch safety net; and he lets himself let go of all the hope he’d been building as he staggers around to his side of the bed. Going completely numb again, feeling trapped and expecting the worst.

Mats smiles and it looks genuine, sweet even, as his eyes crinkle together at the edges and he shows a bit of teeth when he bites his lip as his head falls to the left unsteadily.

His arm comes up onto Marco’s hip, pushing the pads of his fingers into the flesh in an attempt to bring Marco closer towards him and he leans in brashly as Marco shuffles up further towards the middle of the bed.

It doesn’t take Mats long to get impatient, his intoxication throwing time out the window. He wants everything and he wants it _Now._

Using his right arm, Mats pushes his fingers into Marco’s hair, pulling him forwards, crashing their lips together. It’s aggressive and it’s nothing but teeth and the stale scent of cigarette smoke for Marco, but Mats is more than into it.

He untangles his fingers from Marco’s hair, using his palm to shove Marco’s shoulder down flat against the mattress and that’s when Marco realises the shirt wasn’t the only item of clothing that Mats had taken off while he’d been out of the room earlier.

Marco knows exactly what Mats is intending to do, so he breaths out heavily against Mats’ neck as Marco feels him sucking marks into the dips of his collar bone, and lets his limbs relax. Breathing out softly, doing anything he can to think about letting his body be pliant, knowing that it will at least make it easier on him so that Mats won’t feel the need to get any rougher with him.

Not even letting himself think about his movements, indulging his brain to revert back to those raw feelings of eerie blankness of self- because even focusing on hating himself is preferable to actually being present while Mats is on top of him like this.

He feels Mats tugging at his joggers and that’s all he needs to completely push all his awareness of reality into escapism.

_'Breathe Marco. That’s all you have to do. Just breathe…'_


	14. Reality

Marco hadn’t been able to ignore the pain for very long. 

Feeling the searing stings of new scratch marks raking down his back, pinching and irritating him no matter how delicately he’d tried to move as he tries so carefully to find the kindest position to lie in.

Through the night he’d had what felt like never ending amounts of time to go over every minute detail.

Scrunching his face up again as he recounts in his mind for the millionth time how broken and utterly defeated he’d seemed, feeling ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted with everything.

_'I stayed silent though so I guess I should be proud...'_

-

It’s peaceful now. While Mats is sleeping. The silence so comforting, compared to the overwhelming white noise that had been blaring through Marco’s eardrums as he lay there. 

Marco’s sore and he can’t keep the tears from falling anymore.

He lets his throat burn horridly as he clenches his teeth together in a familiar attempt to keep from letting his emotions be vocalised.

He feels the stinging scratches become more irritated as he twists to get out of the covers, moving his left hand up towards his face as he tips downwards to look at his knees hanging over the edge of the bed. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and pushes his finger and thumb outwards to swipe away the tears that manage to escape from his eyelashes. 

Then, moving his hands back to the bed, he pushes all of his weight to his palms against the mattress, shoving himself up from the bed as lightly as possible so as to not disturb Mats. Taking measured strides, once he’s balanced, he moves forwards towards the bedroom door.

Marco has no idea what time it is, and he has no idea what time Mats is going to wake up, but he does know from experience that if he isn’t back in bed when Mats wakes up, he’s got to be as far away from this house as he can get.

_'That’s the plan…'_

He knows he needs to be quiet, the question is;  
_'How quiet can you be when you’re looking for a dead phone you haven’t seen in forever, while your abusive fucking _partner_ is upstairs sleeping off his night of downing who knows how many different kinds of alcoholic drinks and could wake up any second?'_

_'Ex-partner soon enough, if I can pull this off right this time.'_

At that thought, Marco can feel the fear creeping back up on him, the weight on his shoulders more than increasing. 

_'This is the guy I’ve been with for years, who I’ve loved for so long. He’s supposed to make me feel stronger, not weaker. Not panicked and nauseous and disgusting.'_

_'God, I need to get out of here. I’m so stupid!'_

Moving down the stairs he goes over his plan again from that night, when he was on his way down to open the door for Mats. Still convinced that he can do it, he just needs to get the phone, quick.

Looking through the hall is the only place Marco can think to start, as he moves aside the bottoms of coats and jackets that hang close to the wooden benches they keep their battered old shoes hidden away in. He grabs around between the wall and side but nothing’s there except for a scrunched up pair of ugly gloves.

Sighing at not finding anything, Marco sits down on the edge of the bench, the fabric of the jackets bunching up behind him, feeling soft and soothing, like an extra textured cushion with zips and varying scents of cologne depending on what side he moves his head.

He laughs at that thought, realising he probably should wash his jackets more often, but that thought doesn’t last too long as he gets distracted by a shadow against the opposite wall. Immediately he’s pushing himself off the bench to kneel down in front of it, pushing some old magazines out of the way.

Marco feels adrenalin rushing through his chest at the sight of his phone, feeling weird and not wanting to try and grab it in case it’s not really there but also feeling _so much_ relief as he does attempt to prod it with a finger. The phone slides along the carpet a bit at Marco’s gentle push and that’s all Marco needed to see.

Before he can even comprehend anything to himself, he’s grabbing it up from the floor, smoothing away the light layer of dust that’s accumulated before rushing for his charger in the living room.

Plugging it in feels like such a weight off his shoulders that Marco just slumps down into the sofa next to the plugs. He slides down the fabric a bit but winces as the angle he’s ended up in as the bare, irritated skin of his back slides against a big seem on the cushion below him. 

Feeling too drained really care about moving, he decides to just stay there, getting used to the position. The weight of the pressure he’d put on himself to find the phone was filtering out of his body, it feels good, _tingly_ , like a small ounce of hope is still there for him. 

After everything, he’s still got hope.

Marco sighs, half content and half wary as fuck as he listens out for any kind of movement from Mats upstairs.

_Maybe I should put some food on while I wait for this to charge. At least then if he does come down I can distract him and just give say I was making him a ‘hang-over breakfast’…_

Taking one look at the phone, seeing that the screen has turned to the charging symbol, he nods to himself in conformation, to make sure to himself that it’s all real, his phone _is_ on charge and he _will_ be able to call Erik soon. 

Still feeling some anxiety over Mats seeing it on-charge, he decides quickly to shove the phone and the wire out of sight, behind the sofa. Just in case.

-

Moving into the kitchen, Marco starts by making himself a coffee and some toast, excited about the prospect of actually having the chance to eat and drink, having the strength to take care of himself.

Not letting himself get too overwhelmed, he leaves the kettle to boil as he goes through to the laundry room to grab a clean shirt out of the dryer. Looking down at his body, he still winces at the scar along his abdomen, he sighs as he takes in how defined the dips of his ribcage are, feeling so uneasy and so distraught at how much he’s changed.

_'I won’t let this keep happening. I’m gonna get out and I’m gonna get better. I really need to.'_

Shoving the shirt down over his chest, Marco sighs, feeling less exposed but no less upset.

-

Back in the kitchen, Marco’s been working on a big breakfast for Mats. It’s been about half an hour now since he plugged in the phone and just as he’s finishing up the plate, before he can even think to go grab the phone, he stops dead, the pain in his chest returning to wipe out any trace of excitement with pure fear.

The butterflies in his chest are going haywire.

He knows he’s missed his chance, again, when he hears the crash of the bathroom door and the heavy stomps of Mats striding down the stairs.

“Marco my head’s banging. Where the fuck are you?”

_'Shit. Oh God. Fucking hell.'_

“I’m in the kitchen, love, thought I’d make you some breakfast for your hang over” Marco tries keeping his voice light and oblivious, but he’s sure he’s just got fear plastered all over his features.

Mats reaches the bottom of the staircase and leans into the kitchen frowning. He looks rough as hell but Marco can’t help feeling a pang of nostalgia for their cuddly, sleepy mornings as he catches sight of Mats’ magnificent poof of bedhead.

_Why can’t it just always be like those moments? Why does he have to be so unpredictable?_

Bringing himself back into the situation, Marco turns back to the counter where he’s put together a cheesy ham omelette and some thickly buttered toast on a big plate with some tomato and onion, beginning to sprinkle the salt and pepper over the whole plate like he knows Mats prefers.

He hears Mats shoving a chair behind him and hopes with all his being that Mats is too hungover to try and start anything. 

As he turns around with the plate he sees Mats glaring at him. 

_He’s gonna start something. I can tell…_

Feeling very conscious of himself, Marco puts the plate down in front of Mats and just as he was about to ask if he wants water or a coffee, Mats holds his hand up in the air, in a _’Shut up. Right. Now.’_ kind of manner. 

“Is this fun for you? Being miserable? Boring us both half to death…”  
Mats asks condescendingly, as he puts his elbows on the table, clasping both hands together to lean his head on as he glares up at Marco with his bloodshot, hateful eyes.

“What? I- “

“God. Marco. Get over yourself. You’re stood there all high and mighty, well guess what, _love._ You look like shit. You’ve had all this time to yourself, I gave you all that time alone yesterday to _sort yourself,_ and look at you, you’re disgusting! You didn’t even fucking _shower_ …”

“Mats!? I- “

“You didn’t answer my questing. Marco. I said, Is this fun for you? Because honestly, you’re stressing me the fuck out. It’s like I can’t do anything anymore!”

“No. No it isn’t _fun_ for me, Mats.” Marco responds… exasperated and desperate and so damn tired and confused with all of this.

“I can’t take you always being so judgemental. I mean, who calls their own partner disgusting? Really?”

Mats snorts, scrunching his nose and frowning like Marco’s some kind of gross insect.  
“I never even said that! Why are you lying again?

“You treat me like shit, Marco, you leave for days and when I try to sort things out you act like you haven’t even done anything!

“You’ve been off with me ever since you were with that guy. He’s changed you, Marco. And I don’t like what I see.”

Marco doesn’t even know what to say. His thoughts are racing and he just feels so exhausted. Like everything’s a mess of jumbled memories and honestly, he can’t tell what’s real anymore. 

Mats grabs the fork from the table, stabbing at the omelette in front of him to break it apart as he says, portentously;  
“You’d be nothing without me, Marco. Don’t you forget about that.”


	15. Contrast

Marco can feel his heartbeat in his ears, all out of rhythm and really inconvenient for him as he tries to clear his mind. 

_'What the hell just happened?'_  
He thinks to himself as he pushes his dripping hair away from his face.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles beneath him doesn’t even register as the time flies by. He’s got no idea how long he’s been sat under the shower for but the warm droplets tapping along his shoulders is just too comforting to leave yet.

That, along with the fact he still actually needs to wash. Just sitting there won’t take away what’s happened over the past few weeks. He just needs a moment to breathe safely before getting back to the real world of scrubbing his skin raw until there’s nothing left and making sure his hair is up to Mats’ fucking elitist standards.

 _'Wanker.'_  
Marco shakes his head as he thinks about what he just had to go through in their kitchen.

The rush of happiness at the thought of freedom to the soul-crushing panic of being caught and all of the secretive sequences he’d put together in-between just to make sure he wasn’t heard or completely found out by Mats.

The stress at having everything turned back onto himself and allowing it to happen because he knows Mats ins going to win anyway. Being addicted to that kind of hurt and being used to all of his tricks to flip the situation. It’s so real and it’s so dramatic that Marco just knows that all of his efforts are wasted already.

 _'I just love him...'_

  
He thinks as he pulls his legs up closer to his chest and closes his eyes as a few stray droplets run down his forehead.

\--

Marco hears their bedroom door slam as he’s towel drying his ruffled hair. Instantly he’s jumping from the loud noise crashing through the calm quiet around him. Broken from the tranquillity he’d become comforted by, he opens the door slowly, not quite sure if he’s ready to leave the bathroom just yet.

He’s holding his breath and tensing his body to make sure he’s not imagining the house suddenly being this quiet. It’s almost eerie, after the way he can still hear echoes of the yelling with Mats’ rushing around his head from earlier. The atmosphere feels surreal for Marco just standing here, feeling all on his own again now while Mats’ presence is still incredibly prominent.

Feeling the cold tension in the air, Marco pushes open the bedroom door tentatively, making sure Mats knows he’s finished his shower with a little gesture towards his floppy, damp hair as he walks past Mats’ cold stare.

After some time in silence as Marco changes into some lounge clothes, he hears Mats clear his throat; quite obviously demanding Marco’s attention, but not having the patience to wait for him to fully turn and face him before stating completely condescendingly; “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you.”

His expression now one full of disgust as he looks Marco right in the eyes.

Marco’s body aches as he feels the tips of his ears burning red in embarrassed panic. His whole body is just tired of these kinds of situations, the toll is beyond evident and Mats is loving every single moment of it.

“F-Forgotten?”

Mats scoffs. “Right. Great, thanks. You know, I’ve no idea why I try and plan anything fun for us anymore when you just forget everything anyway.”

Mats narrows his eyes, studying Marco intently. Gaging Marco’s defence all while planning his own counter attack.

"The meal I booked for us. _Weeks ago_. Unless you're planning on swanning into a five-star restaurant in fucking _shorts,_ I think I can safely say that you'd completely fucking forgotten, Marco."

“Look, Mats, please. I'm really sorry, I’m just so tired okay? We can go out any t- “

_'Ah. Okay, he’s got a bit of fight in him then. Let’s see how far I can push it.'_

“No, Marco. You don’t get to decide when we go out. You don’t own me.  
“God, it’s like you don’t want us to have a life outside of this fucking house!?“

Marco’s beyond words right now. _I don’t even remember anything about us having plans tonight?_

“Mats I haven’t done this on purpose!”

“It’s like you want to keep me here, all the time. Are you really that clingy?”

“No! Mats don’t, you know I’d never do that. I’m sorry I forgot, please don’t be mad”

Marco’s shaking, both with fear of what Mats might do and anger at himself over this.

_'How could I do this to myself!? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own plans I’ve messed up everything even more with him before I’ve even got anywhere near the door.'_

Marco can’t keep his face looking innocent and concerned for too long and so he has to turn away towards the wall quickly as his face crumples to despair, completely broken. His thoughts mixing with Mats’ angry face as Marco shuts his eyes and holds his breath.

_'How fucking idiotic can I get? I’m supposed to be playing along with him, not turning him even further against me, that’s just fucking brought him closer. He’s watching. He knows how weak I am. He’s too good at this. How did I ever think I could out run him?'_

Mats’ eyes are gleaming. His teeth sharp against his bottom lip as he bites the soft flesh in superiority.  
_'Got him.'_

Stretching his hand out softly across the bed, where he's been sitting, Mat's makes a point of showing Marco he's about to declare something important. 

_Best keep him on his toes a little bit. Don't want him coming to any conclusions for tonight._

Marco hears blaring white noise in his ears, the feeling of horrendous dread seeping into his flesh, harsher, sharper than he expected. He visibly flinches as his left ear popped from the noise rising within himself and his heartbeat is beginning to increase just to make matters even more problematic. He can barely hear anything but this whiny crackle, until he hears Mats speaking-

“Babe stop, I don't want us to fight. We can just stay in instead. _If you want._ ”

Smirking brightly as he speaks.

The room goes to darkness. All of the noise in his head morphs into a dull headache at the front of his forehead as he just sighs and closes his eyelids. Marco can’t believe he’s just heard Mats say that. But he knows from the way Mats’ stare is burning a hole into his skull that he did.

 _I feel sick._ Marco feels like he's been punched in the throat. _Why is he saying this?_

“Oh.”

“Well make your mind up, _babe_?”

Marco looks up fully at that. Confused at how soft and jokey Mats sounds all of a sudden. 

“No. Erm, yeah. Staying in sounds …nice”

Not wanting to make a big deal out of anything while Mats was being so weird and contrasting with his words all on his own- Marco takes this shift in the atmosphere to ground himself. Really making sure he’s here, in the present. Because right now he doesn’t feel safe and whether Mats is calm or not, he knows he needs his guard up.

_This could either end up great or horrendous._

_...Probably the latter. Oh god._


	16. Hazardous

Having to concentrate on not getting yelled at while at the same time planning yet another escape, all while acting what _He_ considers to be ‘normal’ and not having panic splashed all over his face is something Marco has become well accustomed to. 

 

They are in bed, watching some comedy with this guy waving his arms everywhere as he speaks and a fake audience laugh that chimes in before he’s even finished his sentence, and neither of them are really into it.

Everything feels off to Marco, like, even more than usual. And it’s weirding him out as he realises how most of the bad things that Mats has done to him have come from nowhere, whereas now, Marco’s well aware that there’s anticipation looming within Mats’ presence.

 

_'Is this actually where I’m at in life? Sat in the dark, frightened for my safety, watching some awkward div yell on the telly?'_

If it was up to Marco, they’d have put on a football game and been yelling about the off-side rule or the shit ref messing up some intricate passing. Except Mats doesn’t ‘do’ football and bloody hell does Marco know it. But that doesn’t mean he has to like what Mats deems as comedy because fuck it, this is just tedious.

 

Wondering why Mats is just sitting there, putting up with Marco’s painfully obvious stubborn silence and this telly guy’s awful attempts at comedic stories, Marco decides to be brave for a second and look over at Mats.

Maybe he’ll get a questioning stare, or maybe Mats is sat there waiting to say something that’s actually funny when he catches Marco’s gaze in the artificial light. 

 

_'Lets find out, then.'_

 

Taking in a deep breath and pushing that last glimmer of optimism out of his heart for the moment, he turns.

 

Amazingly, it turns out to be neither of the two most realistic options Marco had thought of, actually, one way more favourable than he could have wished for. 

 

_He’s asleep._

_'Oh my god he’s asleep. This is it. I could go, now. Grab my phone and get out.'_

 

\--

 

Mats isn’t asleep.

 

Marco gets up to leave, as quietly and with the least movement of the mattress as possible. Tensing all his muscles in order to get himself out of there unnoticed. 

Mats already knows what Marco’s doing before he even reaches one foot to the floor. Smirking to himself.

 _'Nice, Marco. Smooth.'_  
Mats thinks to himself as he rolls his eyes at how pathetic Marco looks right now. The blue light from the TV casting a soft glow to Marco’s skin and it just makes him look even more fragile in Mats’ eyes. 

_'Poor baby.'_  
He hums to himself as he watches Marco’s innocent footsteps along the floor like a predator, gauging. Waiting to lash out and intimidate.

 

Marco’s only taken a couple of tiny steps. Pacing himself almost, not wanting to cause any kind of big noise that could draw attention to himself. Still oblivious to the fact that Mats is practically glaring at him with those dark, murky eyes and a smirk so big he looks like the literal embodiment of fire.

Reaching out with a dramatic sigh, as if it’s all just simply too easy for him, Mats grabs at Marco’s arm. Marco goes into denial pretty fast at the sharp sensation in his wrist. Resigning himself fairly quickly to defeat. 

Breathing in harshly, his throat makes a sharp choking noise as his body catches up with his thoughts and braces for what’s going to happen now-

“Where’re you going, babe?”

 

Marco’s breathing is erratic now. Mats’ hand around his arm is getting tighter, he can feel his nails digging in and he knows it’s meant to hurt but honestly, Marco’s quite glad to just feel something of the pain. 

 

Waiting in anticipation for the shock of a sharp hit is way worse than pain built on top of pain. Mats has already started and no matter how minuscule, it’s a distraction for Marco. One he’s willing to take in a heartbeat. Focusing on his arm is way easier than focusing on Mats. 

 

“I was just going to get a drink, love. You looked asleep, did I wake you?”  
Marco’s throat is tight. His words obviously forced as he prepares for more. Flexing his wrist a little more, trying to get a new angle for Mats to pinch at before his whole arm starts going numb.

 

Mats notices the movement instantly. Seeing Marco’s fingers tensing as the veins down the centre become more visible from the pressure only making his confidence soar.

Marco can’t quite articulate anything. This whole situation just escalated so far with minimal effort at all. Mats feels like a monster right now, while Marco knows that this is Mats at a fairly weak state. 

 

“Nah. I’m good. I was just _thinking_. Y’know?”  
Mats’ voice has taken on more a gritty tone; Marco can hear it as he annunciates his words. He’s showing off the expression of every letter as they flick off his tongue. Precise. Calculated.

 

_'He’s toying with me. He’s fucking toying with me. I must look pretty pathetic if he’s able to be this lax…'_

 

Marco’s too emotional to want to try anything, needing to escape _right the fuck now_ , but not from the house- that’s too dangerous again now. Just to escape from this reality would be enough.

_'Lucky I’m with Mats then, eh?'_

Marco smirks to himself at that, letting out a soft breath of a laugh. 

 

Mats is livid.

 

Eyes turn to squinting as he gauges Marco’s amusement. 

 

“Are you fucking laughing? Are you actually laughing, honestly?

I’d be over the fucking moon to be honest, since you’re usually about as interesting as a bag of fucking rocks, only- I’m not really in a humorous mood. _Love._ ”

 

With that last word still spitting out of his mouth, Mats is dragging Marco backwards into his own body as he stands up quickly in order to clash their hips together. 

Mats is basically steal compared to Marco’s limp stance and Marco goes flying towards their bedside shelving, only missing the corner of the frame by a few millimetres.

Mats doesn’t waste any more time, he hasn’t thought this through, but honestly. Does he ever?

Feeling all this power rushing through him, getting his body braced for impact, he moves Marco roughly by the shoulders.

Pulling them closer to each other, Mats is still behind Marco as he wraps his arm around Marco’s throat. Strangling him as he uses his right hand to rag on the newly washed strands.

 

“Since when do you use Apple scented hair products?” Mats snarls as the scent floats through the air around them softly.

Mats really doesn’t care to be honest, but the scent is new to him in their usually consistent lives and it’s thrown him off that Marco would use something that he didn’t even know he had…

 

_'Apple.'_

_'Erik’s scent.'_

_'Erik...'_

Marco’s thinking about Erik as he’s losing consciousness as the strain of weakly fighting at Mats’ arm cutting into his throat. 

His heart is working overtime as the blood pounds in his ears. He’s mortified at the thought of dropping Erik’s name into the middle of all this, scared of Mats’ reaction, causing even more drama than there is already… 

 

_I don’t think I said it. It’s okay. Look at the colours. Think of the colours…_

 

The flashing blue hues from the TV are only pushing him further into delirium as his vision falters further.


	17. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco might actually be about to enjoy himself for once...

Shoved into true awakeness through pain and freezing water, Marco’s crumpled at the bottom of the shower, shoulder and the back of his head both throbbing, making him accept that he can’t just drift back off to sleep now. 

“I _knew_ you’d forget. _Again._ ”

Before Marco can even comprehend anything, Mats is right beside him, leaning over like a wolf about to toy with its freshly caught prey

“you’ve got one hour. Try and make yourself look at least _somewhat_ decent, will you. I'm not missing out on even more plans because of you.”

“Oh. And I’ve gotten rid of all your Apple scented shit. That stuff was rank, babe. Use mine if you have to.”

At that Mats storms out of the bathroom, turning at the door to give Marco one last prompting look and taking great care to shut the door as calmly and quietly as possible, making his point crystal clear. He wants everything perfect today.

-

Marco feels sick as well as groggy now. Sitting against the cold tiles, feeling the water slowly heat up while he watches as the water makes little trails around the grooves of the shower floor - How peaceful it should be. Showering is sacred, it’s not a bombardment, it’s a cleansing ritual, to heal and to balance yourself and Mats has just crashed straight through the very centre of Marco’s.

 _‘This is beyond ridiculous…’_ Marco thinks as he shakes his head, eyes up at the ceiling but not really focusing on anything at all.

 

\--

Marco rushed his shower, not feeling up to staying in that claustrophobic room for longer than he needed, after quickly shushing his hair with Mats’ shampoo he gently cleansed his sensitive body with the matching shower gel, stepping out and grabbing a towel to wrap around his hips while he combed his overgrown locks.

 _‘Need a haircut, you, lad’_ he thinks to himself as he looks in the fogged-up mirror, replying to himself with a little head nod -

_‘Soon. I’ll get to it soon…’_

\--

Marco’s ready with a couple of minutes to spare, half jogging down the stairs heading for the porch to grab a scarf he’s suddenly stumbling into the wall, tripping over a pair of Mats’ old boots.

He lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling it sting and trying to sooth it with his cool hand. Lifting his eyes up slowly, locking eyes with an infuriated looking Mats and just sort of frowned, not really knowing how to ask why he deserved a slap out of nowhere- Does mats need a reason, honestly?...

“I gave you an hour and you didn’t use all of it. Why not?”

“I was getting my sc- “

Marco stopped talking completely as Mats took a step forward to bring them completely face to face.

“Don’t answer back. You’re not a child, Marco.”

His cheeks flushed at that, the stinging returning from the extra heat of embarrassment. Focusing his eyes on the floor, he nodded wordlessly. Not wanting to cause any more aggro before they’d even left the house.

 

\--

They’re halfway there when Marco realises where it is they’re headed.

The nausea returns, his mind suddenly reeling off memories from all the past times he’s been there. Well- half there. Getting drunk is now obviously imminent. It’s the best he’s been able to come up with to get through it.

 

Mats nudges Marco’s shoulder, they’re leaning against each other in the back of their private taxi, as a pair, they’re ultimate goals, their aesthetic so striking in the way they always manage to make black and grey work without becoming twin-like at all. Mats usually says it’s the hair but Marco knows it’s their stature, as well as their conflicting mannerisms. 

Marco feels small and inconspicuous next to the bold, loud-mouthed Mats. Just hoping he can be strong enough tonight not to let his insecurities show. It’s bound to make the experience much more demanding. 

He nudges Mats back, offering a playful smirk, quirking an eyebrow. Playing Mats’ game.  
Mats’ nods, moving his arm from resting on Marco’s shoulder so he can snake it around his waist instead as their lips connect in a heavy, knowing kiss. Marco goes a bit numb from it, feeling butterflies and having to close his eyes as their foreheads connect and he feels Mats’ warm breath against his chin.

 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes, babe. I’ve got three lined up so it’s your choice who we include.”

“Are they friends of yours? Like last time?”

“No. I noticed last time you didn’t seem to let yourself relax so I found alternatives I think you’ll be pleased with.”

Marco doesn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at that. How… considerate? 

He makes what he hopes Mats will take as a pleased ‘oh’ sort of noise and brushes their cheeks together before kissing Mats’ again, softly but lingering. The performance may have started early but it may be less daunting than Marco first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends,  
> I know a thousand apologies are incredibly necessary for the insane hiatus on this story.  
>  ~~(and the fact that this chapter doesn't even make a thousand words... the next one will, I promise!!)~~  
>  Uni became a lot, in both soul-crushing and absolutely fabulous ways, but it's winter break and I have four weeks of mental recuperation that I intend to spend on finishing this story. So for anyone in disarray or wondering if I've vanished forever, I can promise you that isn't the case, this story will get finished and I'm going to be working on it like crazy now that I actually have the time!  
> Kudos and comments are always welcome and appreciated ♥♥


	18. Stamina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol is consumed, everyone enjoys themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incredibly overdue. I'm ridiculous with time management. I hope you enjoy now that it's here.

They’re sat in a booth, smooth PVC beneath them, not that they are taking any notice as they knock back another shot before refilling their glasses with their second Black Rose pitcher that just made its way to the table via an incredibly sculpted, blonde ~~model~~ waiter. 

_‘This place hasn’t changed one bit’_ Marco thinks to himself, dragging his eyes away from “fit waiter”’s peachy arse.

“He’s your pick then?” Mats raises an eyebrow, quite impressed really. 

“Is that okay?” Marco raises his head, smirking but blushing at the same time. He hopes the darkness and the violet lighting will disguise it- how wrong he is. Mats was half hard watching Marco checking out “fit waiter”, that blush just made his tight pants _harder_ to deal with.

 

“He’s available in half an hour. We’ll have to amuse ourselves until then. Shall I tell you what I have planned, or do you want to be... let’s say, held in suspense?”

Marco’s eyes widen, “Is that a hint, Mats?” a sly grin appearing across his features.

 

Mats leans in so he’s mere centimetres from Marco’s face, he whispers “wait and see” as his lips brush Marco’s hairline around his temple. Marco feels Mats’ smile upon his skin and he leans into him needing much more contact- Mats leaves a little kiss at Marco’s temple before paying closer attention to Marco’s parted lips.

 _‘It’s been ages since we’ve had a snogging sesh.’_ Marco thinks to himself, all giddy from the alcohol and the hot waiter’s arse and Mats’ lips and tongue. He hasn’t felt this confident in a very long time. Though it started out very fake, as the plans unfolded, the alcohol took hold and Mats got calmer instead of angrier- he thinks to himself. ‘I like where this is heading”

 

“I’ve missed this, Mats. You make me feel amazing. I’m really glad you brought me here.”

Mats looks straight back into Marco’s eyes, his eyes wide and happy and dilated, “Me too, babe.”

They both lean in, desperate for more of each other, their pitcher long since finished and forgotten about as they kiss and giggle every time they come up for air.

 

The music turns raunchier as the night goes on, dancers take to the poles surrounding the perimeter of the club-  
“This is our que, babe” Mats whispers, pulling Marco up from the PVC booth, steadying the both of them, Mats guides Marco over to a pitch-black door that completely blended in with the wall surrounding it.

Marco stumbled through, wondering what kind of dimension Mats has brought him to… 

 

-

“Our evening is just getting started, babe. You ready?”

Marco nods, so incredibly ready to have no pants on like _now_.

Mats smirks, leaning in to kiss his forehead, he guides Marco backwards into a full body harness. 

As the straps around Marco’s wrists and ankles get tighter, he feels himself lifting up into the air, his naked body cradled by strategically placed fabric exposing his entire body gorgeously for Mats and “fit waiter”, who along with not noticing he had become completely naked, Marco hadn’t realised “fit waiter” has appeared and is standing mere inches away, staring right at him.

“what’s your name, _fittie_?” 

Laughing, he replies “You can call me that if you like, Marco”

“Lukasz, do whatever you want with him, just don’t let him come.”

Mats walks over to Marco, brushing his fingers through Marco’s sweaty hair, as he leans in his grip tightens, pulling slightly but enough or Marco to respond well,

 _“That’s my job, tonight.”_ He smirks predatorially. 

Lukasz smiles, nods and is all over Marco’s neck immediately. Pulling frustrated moans and begs from Marco within minutes, _‘fittie’_ is definitely bruising Marco’s neck, attentively bruising his skin as he roams Marco’s lower half teasingly with his soft, strong hands.

 

Marco isn’t thinking anymore, and it’s glorious. Feeling this hard, feeling this pain, this level of want, this intensity and this free and this _I need to come right now_ but not wanting it to be over all at the same damn time- “I’m close again!”. He fidgets with the ties and swings slightly in the air, lets out a broken moan as Lukasz removes his mouth from Marco’s bright pink hole and his hand from his leaking cock, as Mats scratches his pointy nails from Marco’s shoulder blades right down to his glowing red arse cheeks.

 

Lukasz strokes a sticky hand under Marco’s chin, holding his face up so they can make dazed eye contact,  
“you wanna get me off again?” Lukasz asks, though he’s not really asking… 

Marco nods anyway, as Lukasz wastes no time in pushing his dick between Marco’s plump, bitten lips.  
He doesn’t have the strength to move his head so he puts all his effort into using his tongue and he lets Lukasz do the rest, moving his hips, abusing Marco’s mouth. 

All while Mats is feathering kisses over Lukasz’s shoulder as he makes eye contact with Marco, they’re both loving this moment, Lukasz is in ecstasy between them but their connection is stronger than ever. 

Lukasz comes with no warning, _purposely_ , wanting Marco to take all his come.

He leans into Mats chest as he orgasms, Mats turning his attention to _“fittie’_ s” mouth for a very messy, open mouthed kiss, prompting a small groan from Marco.

“Can I come now? Both of you have gotten off twice!!” He whines

Mats and Lukasz smile at each other, turning to Marco in unison- “Sure” they both purr at him.

 

Marco doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead, his breath is so ragged, his whines begging for relief, he’s sure this harness is gonna break any second he’s fighting so hard with the fabric, with his body-

"I'm gonna-"

Lukasz imediately freezes where he is, letting Mats take complete control of Marco's pleasure

Then just like that he’s there, completely coming undone,

His arsehole clenching around Mats, his dick buried in Lukasz’s throat

Sobbing with relief, shaking, sweating, his whole body melting as he _feels_ himself literally and mentally floating.

He doesn’t have a clue if he’s screaming or if he’s chanting in his mind but all he can hear is  
_‘Everything is perfect. Everything is perfect. Everything is perfect’_ … In this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly out of practice. I'm so sorry for being this late, I meant it when I said I'm not abandoning this story! I do have every intention of finishing it- but the posts **will** be staggered. I hope this wasn't terrible to read, aha.


End file.
